


Somewhere Where There is No Need to Run

by shewhowritestoomuch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Fireflies, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Mad Max Series (Movies), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Nemeton, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Romance, Slightly - Freeform, Stiles Stilinski is Thomas (Maze Runner), Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhowritestoomuch/pseuds/shewhowritestoomuch
Summary: After a year and a half of hearing and knowing nothing, Sheriff Stilinski finds his son(Set a year and a half after the end of Season 2, will be going over the plot of Season 3b with some original plot points)





	1. I'm Running at the Beat of the Drum

**Author's Note:**

> So, i just saw The Death Cure, and like all angst averse people (see all of my previous works) I decided to rewrite it and put in a Teen Wolf crossover).

When Noah had got the call at 3 in the morning that his son had been found, he could hardly believe it.

He had waited the next three hours until the station opened in a state of nervous anticipation, sitting at the kitchen table, nursing the same cup of coffee until it became as cold as the freezing winter air that had permeated into the room in the absence of any sort of heating. He had spent the last year and a half wondering what could have become of Stiles after Gerard Argent has been run out of town under mysterious circumstances, and now he was going to find out.

It was almost too much.

When the clock finally ticked over to six in the morning, he had rung the station, letting them know he was cashing in on some of his accrued leave to the next two weeks off. He didn’t say why, realising as he spoke to Dot, the civilian administrator, that he’d only been told that they had found Stiles, not the condition that he was in. She sounded relieved, everyone at the station had been concerned for him, most of the deputies augmenting their normal duties with a weekly casserole drop off.

Noah expected that it would be a relief for them to be able to function without him, even if it was just a little while. It must have been exhausting for them, it definitely had been for him.

By 7:30 in the morning, the grieving Sheriff had packed his bags, and gotten into his son’s disused Jeep, starting it up with very little difficulty, despite it’s rusted condition. He reversed out the driveway, and before long was out of Beacon Hills and on a highway heading to the location he’d been given.

Somehow, the drive wasn’t as tortuous as Noah had expected. He spent the three hours in silence, focussing on controlling his emotions, and planning on what to say to Stiles when he saw him.

“Sorry” seemed like a good place to start, for not protecting him better, for letting him wander off after the fateful lacrosse game, for letting him be captured by some unseen force while everyone else was occupied with the Argent Family, and whatever obscure shit they had been pulling that night.

He was stumped for how to continue. 18 months was a lot of time when you were a teenager, and he had no way of knowing if and how Stiles would have changed in the time he had been away. Would he be happy to be reunited with his father? Or would he be furious and resentful that it had taken his father, his flesh and blood, so long to find him? Or would he be greeted not by a living teenager, but his son’s corpse?

The thoughts plagued Noah as he drove down the highway, getting closer and closer to the facility just outside of Los Angeles where his son was being held. He supposed that the only thing that mattered was that he’d get some measure of closure, even if that closure came in the form of a coffin.

The little facility was a far cry from the imposing government building he had expected. Where Noah had thought that there would be stainless steel and highly reflective glass, there was white concrete, and a simple sliding door, and where he had thought there would be an entire battalion of guards, there was a young woman in a lab-coat and holding a clipboard waving at him frantically.

This, Noah supposed, was to be the beginning of the end of the tragic situation which had begun a year and a half ago.

He stepped out of the truck and waved at the woman before he walked towards her.

“Mr Stilinski?” the woman looked harried, her hair out of place and her glasses askew, her tone simply exhausted.

“Please, call me Noah,” the sheriff finally reached her, holding out a hand which she shook with her own clammy right hand, “I got a call-”

“Yes, you did.” She blinked, frowning exaggeratedly before she opened her eyes again, “Sorry, I’m Doctor Rockatansky, I’m in charge of your son’s case. I’d say that it’s a pleasure, but, um under the circumstances…” she trailed off, looking back at the facility, “Please, come inside, we can talk more there.”

She turned, leaving Noah little choice but to follow her. They entered the reception area, the chill of the airconditioned air a shock after the dry heat of the Californian desert. Doctor Rockatansky walked to the desk, leaning over the bench to pick up a tag from next to the vacated computer. She turned back to Noah, a tired smile on her face, and a visitor’s pass on a lanyard in her hand. “I’m sorry for the lack of organisation, your son is among the last to be picked up.” She began to walk down the main corridor, her pace swift as was common with overworked doctors.

“You’ve had him here for a while?” Noah couldn’t help the upset from creeping into his voice, his anger rising at the thought of his son being kept away from him for a moment longer than was necessary. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

Doctor Rockatansky stopped, letting him catch up with her, she crossed her arms as best as she was able, taking a deep breath before she began to speak. “Your son has been with us for three weeks, Mr. Stilinski, and I assure you, the time that it has taken for us to contact you has been completely and utterly necessary.”

She began to walk again, Noah running to catch up with her yet again. “I don’t understand Doctor. What could possibly necessitate that you keep my son from me the better part of a month?”

Doctor Rockatansky stopped for the final time outside of an observation room. She gestured for Noah to stand next to her, beginning to speak as he walked towards her.

“Your son,” she looked down at her feet, clearing her throat before she started again, “Stiles, was held against his will for a year and a half, by a discredited medical researcher. He, and several other young-” she shook her head, “children and teenagers, were subjected to a series of highly unethical and illegal medical trials without any sort of approval or oversight.”

Noah nodded, waiting for her to continue. He watched her take another breath, as she raised her hand to rest over her heart.

“All of her notes have been destroyed, but we do know that she was treating some of the subjects, no, not subjects, she was treating the children, with an engineered pathogen, and seeing how they reacted. We kept them here for the first week, all of them without notifying their parents, to see who survived.” She looked down at her feet again, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m very sorry so say that survival rates were less than 100%. We spent the second week continuing to treat the survivors for dehydration and malnutrition, and they undertook psychological assessment. After that we sent the children who were deemed to be of sound mind and body, with no extenuating circumstances, home.”

“And Stiles wasn’t, is he not sound? Is there something wrong with him?”

“He’s a sound as can be expected given the circumstances,” she turned to the window, staring at the room behind it and its contents, “Which are extenuating.”

Noah joined her at the window, his mouth opening slightly in shock as he looked inside. “Stiles?”

The room was simple, containing only a single bed and a few medical contraptions which were currently in a state of disuse. There was a single sealed window on the opposite wall, and one chair by the side of the bed.

It was the contents of the chair that drew Noah’s attention. There, wearing a creased army jacket, his hair longer than Noah had seen it for many years, and with a very unflattering pool of drool collecting upon his cheek, was Stiles, resting his head upon the bed’s mattress. Or, at the very least, someone who looked remarkably like him. Even in sleep there was a level of wariness that had never been present in his son previously. The outline of the knife in his pocket was new too.

Doctor Rockatansky looked at him, telegraphing her movements as she raised her arm to rest her hand on his shoulder. “He doesn’t remember much, I’m afraid, of his life before the trials, not even his name. It appears that she used a combination of electroshock therapy and targeted biological agents to temporarily disable their access to memories. As I said, her notes were destroyed”

“So you can fix it? You can’t give them back? You can-” John cut himself off as he saw the Doctor shake her head, blinking furiously as the worked up the nerve to continue talking.

“The brain is a complex organ Mr Stilinski, there are over thirty trillion neurons, and we’ve barely begun to understand even the most basic information about the nature of memory storage in it.” She brought her hand up to her face, rubbing at her eyes. “The children who’ve suffered the most trauma seem to have had the most trouble regaining their memory, which suggests some sort of psychological block, but treating it is something that even the most prestigious psychologists and psychiatrists, the ones at the forefront of their fields, would have trouble treating.”

“And Stiles is one of the most traumatised? Is that what you’re saying?”

Doctor Rockatansky inhaled through her nose, looking through the window of the room without seeing its contents. “When your son was delivered to us, he was suffering from a bullet wound to the abdomen which narrowly missed his stomach and abdominal aorta. He was also clutching the nearly dead body of Newt to his chest. I’ll let you decide how traumatised that makes him.”

Noah frowned, his mind caught on one of the more asinine details of the otherwise harrowing account, “A Newt?” he looked at the Doctor as though the extreme exhaustion had driven her to madness. Stiles had never been overfond of reptiles, had he?

“That would be the gentleman occupying the bed at present,” she gestured to the boy with russet coloured hair whose hand was resting below Stiles’, “He was very badly affected by the pathogen, though, at present the prognosis looks positive,” she smiled properly for the first time in the day, “he’s what we would describe as the extenuating circumstances in your son’s case.”

Noah frowned yet again, raising his eyebrows as he looked at Doctor Rockatansky, “In what way, exactly, Doctor?” He looked on, his frown becoming more pronounced as the Doctor smiled.

“We had to disable Newt’s heart monitor for the first three days after they were cleared by the doctors because they kept on setting off the heart monitor, with their um, amorous activities.”

Noah felt a blush rush up his neck and along his ears without his volition, “Oh, um..”

“Being a medical facility, we have a ready supply of, um, protection if that’s what you were worried about.” Doctor Rockatansky smiled, appearing to take pleasure in Noah’s mortification.

“Well I am now!” He looked back at the sleeping boys, before swivelling his head around to look at Doctor Rockatansky again, “I knew, if that’s what you’re worrying about, I don’t mind that, but um, I didn’t think that he’d… you know he was kidnapped, it’s not that romantic you know?”

“Survival is a powerful aphrodisiac, Mr Stilinski,” her smile faded as she turned to look at him, “When we found your son, Newt was, well he had been infected with the pathogen, and was suffering from its affects to a very severe degree, and he had been stabbed. The knife nicked the pericardial sac.” She looked down at her shoes again, “He nearly died. I’m quite sure if he had he would have taken your son with him. Which brings us to the nature of your son’s extenuating circumstance. He and, ah, Newt have refused, point blank, to be separated under any circumstances, and we can’t find Newt’s family. I know that it is an imposition but would you mind-”

“Taking Newt with me?” Noah looked at her wryly, “You could have been more concise.”

“Essentially, yes. We can provide you with some not insubstantial resources to aid you financially, medically, psychologically. A few very important people want this to be kept very quiet”

Noah shrugged, looking at the Doctor with a small smile. “I’m sure that I’ll be able to manage with the help of a few very important people.” He shrugged, thinking of the lack of bills in Stiles’ absence.

Doctor Rockatansky smiled, “You’re a good man Mr. Stilinski.”

Noah smiled back at her, “I’m only doing what is right, Doctor Rockatansky.”

She pointed at the door, “Shall we?”

Noah nodded, clasping his hands in front of himself, “Ladies first.” He smiled, gesturing for her to go.

Doctor Rockatansky reached for the door, pausing just before she opened it to look at Noah. “He likes to be called Thomas now, so maybe start with that.” She pushed the handle down, entering the room with a familiar smile upon her face. “Wakey wakey boys, you have a visitor!”

Stiles and Newt jumped up, the former letting his hand fall to where the knife was hiding in his pocket before he took in the site of Doctor Rockatansky and relaxed.

“For fuck’s sake Maxine,” Stiles groaned, rubbing at the drool on his face with distaste, “You could have knocked!” John smiled as Stiles smiled, watching as his son stood and walked to Newt’s side, the smile dulling a bit as the two exchanged a not so chaste kiss. Were chastity belts still a thing in the modern world? And did they make them for teenage boys, who regardless of circumstances faced, were going to give an old man a heart attack if they continued acting the way that they did?

“I have to have my fun somehow, Tommy,” Doctor Rockatansky smiled, then looked down at her clipboard, “you have a visitor, Tommy. Which means you have a visitor by extension, Newt.”

“It’s not some shank trying to evaluate us again is it?” The boy on the bed, Newt spoke with a British accent, his rough voice shocking Noah slightly, the sheriff taking a step back, “I swear, Tommy’s going to stab the next person who tries to poke at my leg.”

Rockatansky laughed, “That’s a felony, Newt, besides it’s not another doctor, I’m the last one here.”

“Then who is it?” Stiles stood, his smile tense as he looked towards the door, “You haven’t sold us out have you Doc?”

“Don’t worry Tommy, I have scruples,” Doctor Rockatansky, “No, it’s someone who’s been waiting a long time to see you. His name is Noah, and he’s your father.”

Stiles stepped back, sliding onto the bed with Newt. “I’m not, I’m not going with him, not unless he takes Newt too.” He took the other boy’s hand in his own and turned to him, “I told you, didn’t I? I’m not leaving you behind, never again.”

“That’s not going to be an issue Tommy, your father has agreed to take the both of you. He’s quite amenable to the idea of having a full house again. He’s waiting outside if you would like to see him.” She paused at Tommy’s hesitance, smiling slightly, “He’s nice, he’s a Sheriff, but he’s not mean,” Stiles looked at her with a desperate expression upon his face. She continued once again. “I’ll be here the entire time if you want.”

Stiles nodded, hooking one hand around Newt’s shoulders again. “We can talk, but only if you stay.”

Doctor Rockatansky nodded and walked to the door again, she smiled as she gestured for Noah to follow her in.

And so, for the first time in 18 months, Noah Stilinski stood before his son. For a second he could do nothing except stare, but that inaction was soon overrun by the emotion that had been building in him since he had looked into the room.

And so, for the first time in 18 months, Noah Stilinski allowed himself to cry. His face crumpling as he brought a hand up to cover it.

“I’m sorry,” he wiped at his eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m really very happy, I am. It’s just, Stiles, no wait, Tommy, I haven’t seen you for over a year and a half.” He wiped the tears from his face again, even as they kept coming.

Stiles looked at him with an unreadable expression upon his face, “I don’t remember you.”

“That’s okay, I have plenty of memories for the both of us. I’m here to take you home, if you want to come with me. You and, Newt.” Noah smiled at the other boy, trying to be more reassuring than frightening. Hopefully the snot he could feel forming on his face was aiding that goal more than hindering it. “I’m very happy to see you.”

The two boys on the bed looked at each other, a silent conversation going on between the two, the miniscule changes in their faces doing more to inform each other of their emotional state and desires than mere words ever could have. Noah watched, amazed as Newt and Stiles came to what appeared to be an accord, the former looking at Noah with a fierce, but not entirely unfriendly gaze while Stiles looked down.

“We’ll go with you,” Newt began, his voice hoarse with either disuse or extended screaming, which Noah could not tell, “but only if you give us your word that you won’t make us do anything against our will.” The boy looked at his leg, something in his expression that Noah could not quite decipher, “because I’ve had enough of that for my entire life, and so has Tommy.”

Noah nodded, his gaze caught by his son’s, a practical stranger to him now. “I promise.”

Newt looked at Stiles again, then back at Noah. The Sheriff did his best not to wilt under the intense gaze, knowing that these early days would be vital if a trust was to form between him and the two boys now under his care. He breathed out.

“Well then,” he cleared his throat, “let me get you two signed out.”


	2. And I'll Run with You by My Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah, Thomas and Newt reach Beacon Hills, but it's not a passage without some measure of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that I've kinda messed up the timeline in regards to the show, so before we really get into it, here's a breakdown of the series of events.
> 
> \- Stiles is kidnapped by WCKD at the end of season 2, on his way from the Argent basement/torture chamber to see his dad.  
> \- Several months pass where he is subject to rigorous and highly unethical medical trials/memory erasure.  
> \- The entire time period of the Maze Runner trilogy is approximately 4 months long.
> 
> \- During this time we follow the movies, rather than the books because the rendition of Page 250 was gut-wrenching, hence Newt's slightly perforated pericardium
> 
> \- While he's away, Beacon Hills goes through the Alpha Pack and Darach debacle, however certain figures, such as Harris, are still alive because the drama I can get from subjecting the main characters to their bullshit outweighs my personal dislike of them.  
> \- Eventually things settle back to a period of relative peace in Beacon Hills until Thomas and Newt arrive back  
> \- The events of Season 3B are going to be covered by this fic after Newt and Thomas get settled in

The drive back to Beacon Hills was only marginally noisier than the last had been. Thomas sat in the front seat while Newt slept in the back. He hadn’t been happy with the arrangement, but one look from Noah, from his father, had made it clear that the man didn’t want them getting lovey-dovey.

Thomas wondered if it had anything to do with Doctor Rockatansky giving him what she described as “a year’s supply of all the possible prophylactics a healthy man could require” just before he had gotten into the jeep.

The look on his father’s face had been priceless.

It was a strange concept, to have a father after having got used to being without one. Stranger still to have someone who cared about him, even though there was no possible gain for them. To date, the only people who had been like that for him had been Minho, Chuck and Newt, and two of those people were beyond him now. Chuck was in the afterlife, and Minho had been sent back to his family without so much as an address for his friends to contact him with.

So his father would have to forgive him if he was reluctant to let Newt out of his sight.

“Doctor Rockatansky said you were hurt, while you were away.”

“I wouldn’t so much say away as kidnapped,” he smiled tersely, trying to find his standing with his father with the small snippets of conversation that he had been afforded, “but yeah, I was, hurt. It doesn’t bother me much now, they stitched me up good.”

“It was a bullet wound to your stomach, Stiles,” Thomas flinched at Noah’s raised voice, looking down back at Newt. Noah seemed to notice his flinch, clearing his throat and speaking much more softly when he began again. “I just want to know so I can stop you from doing something that gets you hurt.”

“I’ve been doing things that get me hurt for as long as I can remember, dad.” Thomas looked back at the man, not wanting to seem insincere, “Not that that is a particularly long time.”

He looked back at Newt again, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest that seemed like a miracle after the events that had happened only a month ago.

“So Tommy-“

“Thomas,” this time it was Thomas that had to soften his voice slightly, wincing at the harsh tone which had come out of him, “Sorry, only Newt calls me Tommy, I’m Thomas to everybody else

“That doctor, um Rocatansky, she called you Tommy, though?”

“She’s Australian, I think not using a nickname would cause her physical pain, that and Tommo just felt very weird. But, for everybody else it’s Tommy.”

“Okay.” Thomas smiled as Noah turned back to the road with a confused but ultimately accepting expression. “Speaking of things exclusive to you and Newt, with the doctor and the… box of things she gave you. I can’t pretend to understand what you were going through, but there are things-”

“No offence Noah, um dad, but I don’t want to have this conversation with you right now.” Thomas looked back at Newt again, feeling relief washing over him as he saw that Newt was so asleep as to be effectively dead to the world. “Or ever really.”

“Well, I know I said that I wouldn’t make you do things that you didn’t want to do, but the law is another matter, and in California at least, there’s this concept of teenagers not sleeping with other people. So, you might want to think about that.”

“I’m not sleeping with other people, I’m sleeping with Newt.”

“That’s not the point, Stiles-”

“My name is Thomas!” he yelled, slumping against his seat and wiping his hand across his face.

Behind them, Newt stirred in his sleep, “Tommy?” he sat up, pushing the blanket that Thomas had so carefully laid on top of him onto the floor, “What’s wrong?” he leaned forward nearly falling off of his seat in his grogginess, “are we there yet?”

“Nothing’s wrong Newt, you should go back to sleep, the Doctor said you needed to rest.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but rest for the past three and a half weeks, Tommy, I’m pretty sure that she meant no running until my chest heals a bit more, not being awake.”

Thomas smiled, the argument with Noah nearly forgotten as he catalogued Newt’s face for the millionth time in at least a week. “It isn’t bothering you is it, no redness, no pain, no pus-”

“Tommy, I love you, but you’re a worry wart, you know?” Newt leaned even further forward, kissing Thomas on the cheek before he collapsed back onto the seat with a beleaguered expression.

Thomas grinned as Noah stiffened, feeling a smile come to his face without his permission. “I love you too, but please for the sake of my heart and yours, literally, please don’t pull your stitches.”

“You weren’t saying that last week.” Newt smiled angelically, his expression belying the sentiment.

Thomas had to resist the urge to burst into laughter as Noah’s entire face went beet red, and his hands tightened on the wheel. Instead he just raised his eyebrows and looked at his father with a grin on his face. Hopefully the man wouldn’t have a heart attack before they reached the house, or at least got to the outskirts of the city. That would be unfortunate.

Noah smiled, his teeth showing like a wolf’s, “So, Newt, how long have you known my son?”

“A year and a half, roughly. It was hard to keep time in the Glade, and then even harder in the Scorch, and by the time we got to the City, I wasn’t really, I was kinda outta of it.”

Thomas glared at his father, “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to Newt.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to make him uncomfortable, it just seems a bit strange for two teenagers in a medical trial to be getting shot and stabbed, you know, I just want to be sure of you, Newt.”

“Like Tommy said, Noah, I don’t have to tell you anything that I don’t want to.” Newt sat up again, pulling Thomas back towards him and kissing him on the mouth with a level of fervour that Thomas hadn’t experienced since they had woken up alive in adjacent hospital beds in that little medical facility an hour outside of Los Angeles.

Thomas closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to card through Newt’s hair, smiling into his… oh he figure it out later, into Newt’s mouth. Much as he wanted not to fuck things up with Noah, with _his dad_ , he would never do anything to jeopardise this fragile thing that he had with Newt. Too much blood, mostly theirs had been spilt in the pursuit of it.

Eventually they had to surface for air, Newt resting his hand on Thomas’ face as he pulled back, both of them smiling. Thomas was the first to speak. “There’s no problem, I promise, okay? You and me together, for as long as we’re both running, yeah?”

“Okay, yeah.” Newt winced as he pulled back, collapsing back onto the back seat with a grimace.

“Did you pull your stitches?” Thomas slipped under the confines of the seat belt, pulling at Newt’s shirt with a practiced ease until he reached a still patched up region of chest just above his heart, “There’s no blood, are you sure that you’re okay? We can pull over, I can patch you up if you need.”

“I’m fine Tommy, I’m just out of breath, okay?”

Tommy nodded, smiling at Newt before turning to Noah. “How long before we get there?” He smiled tersely, “before we get home? To Beacon Hills?”

Noah pointed to a rapidly approaching sign on the right side of the highway. “We’re on the outskirts now. I know that I’m not meant to be having fries, and I’m not sure about how you two feel, but I’d love something to eat.”

Thomas took the proverbial olive branch and smiled at Noah. “It’s been a while since we’ve had anything good,” he looked back at Newt, “other than Frypan’s stew, I mean. Yeah Newt?”

“Yeah love.”

They fell silent for a few more minutes, Noah pulling into the parking lot of a small diner just on the outskirts of the town. Thomas kept him in the corner of his eye as he jumped out of the front and walked to the back, holding his arms out with a wide smile as Newt opened the door and laughed at him.

“It’s not that far a drop Tommy,” he smiled, letting his hands come to rest on Tommy’s shoulders regardless of his words, “I’m fine, I love you, you’re the single most obvious human being I’ve ever seen, thank you.”

“I’m that obvious?” Tommy smiled as he lifted Newt out of the Jeep and lowered him onto the ground, and kissed him on the cheek, “Come on, I’m starving.” He turned to Noah with a devious grin, “you’re paying, right Noah?”

Hi father smiled as they walked slowly towards the front doors, “It’s good to have you back.”

The inside of the diner was the same sort of kitschy fifties theme you saw in every Hollywood movie, complete with the ridiculous hats worn by the bus-boys.

Not that Thomas really knew how he knew that. Since coming back to the real world, small snippets of his life had come back to him. Nothing that could be described as useful, or enlightening, just little things like what flavours were, and what smells were, and for some bizarre reason the entire history of U.S. military intervention in the Middle East.

He shook his head, staying close to Newt as Noah opened the door for them, both of the boys surveying the room for exits and weak points. They followed him to one of the booths, sitting on the other side of the table to him. Thomas flinched as a waitress handed them the menu, unconsciously shielding Newt from her bored expression.

“The soup’s off, a cockroach fell in.” She smiled and turned to Noah, her delight at any potential strike against her employers very clear, “Just if you wanted to tell the city health inspector.”

Noah coughed, and put on his glasses to peruse the menu, “That’s lovely Lauren, but we’ll just have three cheeseburgers,” he turned to Thomas, “do you and Newt like pickles?”

Thomas nodded, glad to be distracted from the few hundred options on the oversized sheet of paper, even if it meant giving up control of the situation. Newt was still looking at the drinks’ side of the menu with a calculating expression on his face.

“Okay, two with pickles and one without, and I want curly fires on the one without.” Noah smiled tersely at Thomas, “And then to drink, how about we just get three cokes?”

“No,” Newt interrupted, surprising both Thomas and Noah, “I want a milkshake,” he looked up at Noah, slightly fearful, “is that okay? It’s only an extra few dollars.”

Noah smiled, nodding, “Sorry, two cokes and one milkshake, what flavour do you want Newt?”

“Um,” Newt dropped his hand underneath the table to grasp at Thomas’, “How about strawberry?”

Lauren smiled, putting her notepad away and taking his menu from it. “Sure is, do you want some fresh strawberries in it? They were picked this morning.”

Thomas smiled as Newt’s face lit up, “Yes.”

She put the menus under her arm, “It’ll be about five minutes.” She walked away, leaving the three stranded together in the nearly silent diner.

Thomas sighed, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the linoleum table top while he held Newt’s with his right. He looked out the window for a few seconds before turning back to Noah, _to his father_ , and looking him right in the eyes.

“So, what happens know?” He didn’t look away from Noah, not even as Lauren returned with the drinks, remaining remarkably stoic even as a plastic straw nearly went up his nose. “Now that I’m back here, for the foreseeable future. Now that Newt and I’m here for the foreseeable future.”

Noah cleared his throat, smiling at them, “Well, I suppose that we’re going to have to think about putting you two in school. The term starts in a few weeks, it might be a good way of integrating you into society in a, well, a controlled environment.” He paused at Thomas’ horrified expression, “I know I said I wouldn’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do, but, um, this one is kind of required by law.” He took a sip of his coke, gesturing to Newt, “We don’t have to figure it out now, how’s your milkshake Newt?”

“It’s good, thanks Noah,” he leaned against Thomas again, smiling slightly, “What’s a cheeseburger?”

Noah laughed, easing Thomas’ nerves, “A cheeseburger Newt, is one of the single most delicious food items on God’s green earth. And, despite what Sti-, what Thomas might have said in the past, it contains all of the important food groups, so it’s perfectly healthy.”

“What are food groups?”

Thomas stiffened as Noah grinned, his eyes narrowing until Noah opened his mouth with a hesitant explanation, “It’s a nutrition thing. I’m sure coach can explain this better than I can, just focus on the food, and see if you agree with me about the taste, okay?”

Thomas and Newt nodded, the food and cutlery coming out just as silence fell again.

Thomas had to admit that the food was lovely, the cheese melting into the meat patty to create a sublime flavour. It seemed that Newt was more concerned by the fries that were next to the burger on the plate, scoffing them down with a fervour that made Thomas laugh and nearly choke on his food.

He coughed a little onto his plate, waving off Newt’s concerned hands as he managed to start breathing again. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He smiled at Newt, wiping a bit of sauce off of the side of Newt’s mouth. “How’s the milkshake, Newt?”

Newt nodded, “It’s good, the strawberries are nearly as good as the ones I grew in the glade.”

“That’s saying something,” Thomas put down his burger, using his unused fork to pick one of the strawberries from Newt’s milkshake and putting it in his mouth before the other boy could protest at the terrible theft, “Mm, close, but nothing could ever beat your strawberries Newt.”

“You grew strawberries?” Both boys jumped at Noah’s quiet question, Thomas allowing himself to smile at his father when he saw that there was no judgement, only genuine curiosity.

Newt nodded, addressing Noah, but looking Thomas straight in the eye as he spoke.

“We were stuck there for a while, well I was, Tommy was only there for a little bit before the scorch. And there wasn’t enough food sent up in the box for us to live on, so we had to use seeds to grow our own. And I helped for a little bit, for about a year before I got out.”

Thomas frowned, taking both of Newt’s hands, “You don’t have to go on, like he said, we don’t have to do everything all at once. Okay?” He smiled as Newt nodded, kissing him on the cheek and letting the now upset young man rest his head on his shoulder. “Just keep eating. Okay?”

Newt nodded, sitting up and returning to his food. Thomas looked at his father with a tired expression, his eyes begging him not to say anything.

Thankfully Noah seemed to understand, letting them all eat the food in silence for the next few minutes, and telegraphing his every movement as he stood up to pay the bill. “We’ll head home now, okay? There’s been enough excitement for one day, you must be exhausted.”

Thomas nodded, pulling Newt, now mildly catatonic, out of the booth and walking towards the door, “We’ll wait for you outside, okay?” He opened the door and led Newt outside after Noah said yes, both of them taking deep breaths once they were fully outside.

“Well that was, a mixed bag, eh Tommy?” Newt smiled but Thomas could see that it was brittle, and that it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend to be okay in front of me, you know. We’ve been through enough shit together to know that it doesn’t work.” He raised a hand, waiting until Newt nodded to put it on his paramour’s shoulder. “If you want to get out of here, we don’t have to stay, we can steal the Jeep, go north, or south, or anywhere that you want, anywhere we need to be.”

“I love you, Tommy.” It was not the first time that Newt had said it, in fact the statement had been almost a daily recitation since they had woken up next to each other, but this might have been the most emotional in that space of time, morphine induced tears notwithstanding. He raised his hand to rest on his chest, “With all my heart.”

“I love you too, Newt.” Thomas smiled, “So wherever you want to go… Whenever you want to go.”

Newt nodded, “I say we wait, it might not be too much of an ask to fit in here. And I don’t want to say no to a bed and guaranteed meals for a while.”

“Okay, we stay then, but if you change your mind, if it gets too much.”

“I promise, and you tell me the same if it’s too much for you too, okay?”

“I promise.”

They both turned and walked towards the car, arm in arm, small smiles on their faces.

Of course, as is the nature of most things in life, the small blissful state they had entered into destined to be interrupted by the real world.

The real world in this case being a tall imposing man with untameable eyebrows, and a perpetual scowl on his face.

“Stiles?”

And so the carefully constructed state of peace came crashing down around them.


	3. Rest your weary head, my love, the race is over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles returns home for the first time in a year and a half, but of course, harmony is an elusive beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, it's going to be a while until we get to the plot of season 3B, I want to get the two settled first, and figure out a few character dynamics first.
> 
> I've decided to make Noah unaware of the supernatural, for the simple reason that it means I can squeeze more angst out of this narrative.
> 
> That's not to say that there won't bee some fluff, as this chapter should demonstrate. :)

Newt saw Thomas tense in front of him as the man approached, a wild look in his eyes. He didn’t even have it in him to try to protest as Thomas stalked forward, his hand falling into the pocket which Newt knew had the stolen knife that had once nearly pierced his heart.

“Who are you?” Newt tried to look imposing as the man turned to look at him, hoping that Tommy wouldn’t do anything too dangerous while he was still out of any potential fights.

The man quickly returned his gaze to Thomas, the sheer intensity of it making Newt shudder. There was something wrong with him, with the way that he moved, something that made him seem more like an animal than a man.

“Stiles, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for over a year!” The man stepped forward, grabbing at his left arm, much to his immediate regret as Tommy raised the knife with his right. “What the fuck Stiles?!”

Tommy inched backwards, the knife staying well in front of the younger brunet as he backed towards Newt, the paler of the two former Gladers reaching out with both hands to take Tommy’s hands as they both backed towards the door of the diner. “My name isn’t Stiles, it’s Thomas!”

The man, who seemed to have even less of a survival instinct than Tommy did at times, stalked forward, staying just outside of the radius of Tommy’s reach. “This isn’t funny, Stiles, who’s this, and where’s your father?”

Just as with the Devil, at least to Newt’s mind, Noah seemed to appear with the utterance of his name. He paused at the tableau, momentarily shocked by it before stepping forward and warding the strange man off with a level of skill that Newt was jealous of.

“Derek,” Noah said, stepping around Tommy and his knife, “Now is not the time, back off.”

Derek didn’t take the hint, even though it was as blunt as Frypan’s cleaver had been. “No, he can’t just disappear for a year and a half, and then reappear with a knife and then expect us to have no questions about it.”

Newt could tell that Tommy was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but he was a few seconds too late to prevent it as he heard his paramour’s breathing quicken. He moved forward, raising his left hand to rest on Tommy’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he whispered, leaning against Tommy’s back, “we’ll be okay.”

It did very little placate Tommy, who couldn’t help but shout out at the tension. “What the fuck is going on?” Newt flinched as the knife which had nearly been the end of the both of them was pushed further towards the strange man.

Noah turned back to them, all of the fatherly warmth he’d been trying to convey during their dinner gone, replaced by the steady manner of a trained cop. “It’s going to be alright, Thomas, it’s going to be alright, but I need you to put the knife away, okay? We can talk about why you still have it later.” He paused when it was clear that Thomas was beyond responding verbally. “Newt, help me out here.”

Newt nodded, placing his arm on Tommy’s, and gently directing his arm down to his side. “Come on, Tommy, Love, for me.” He groaned as Tommy shook his head, knowing from experience that by this point the other youth wasn’t going to budge on this.

“I’m not doing anything until he leaves, okay?” Newt’s heart broke as Tommy’s voice did the same. This was meant to be a safe haven, not another nightmare.

Noah nodded, turning back to the strange man, Derek with a steady voice and an outstretched hand. “Okay, Derek, you heard him. You need to leave, before I arrest you.”

Derek finally got the point, stalking away from the family and disappearing into the night.

Noah turned back to Tommy, a small smile on his face. “Okay, Thomas, I need you to put the knife down now. Derek’s gone, and he’s not going to annoy you any further. Sound good?”

Newt breathed a sigh of relief as Tommy nodded and put down the knife, placing it back in his pocket and taking a step forward.

“What the fuck was that Noah?” Newt braced himself for Tommy to collapse on him, kissing the back of his neck and wrapping his arms around him. “what the fuck just happened?”

Noah stood with a hung head, his hands on his hips and all of the lines of his face made more apparent by the light of the lone streetlight in the diner’s parking lot. Newt could tell that this had not been the way the man had wished to welcome his son back to his hometown. Eventually, after a few seconds punctuated only by Tommy’s still panicked breathing, the weary sheriff began to speak.

“This wasn’t how I wanted to bring you back home, Sti-” he covered his mouth, quiet for a few seconds, “Thomas, and I’m sorry for that.” He gestured for them to follow him to the Jeep, opening the back door for them and providing them with a lift up to the back seat.

When they were all finally in the car, Noah turned to look at them. Newt smiled him, and leaned forward when it became apparent that Tommy couldn’t speak, “It’s alright, it’s only the third most stressful dinner we’ve ever had.”

Noah smiled back at him. “How about we go home, and then go to bed and start tomorrow like it’s a new day, and just start this all again? Does that sound about right?”

Newt nodded, letting Tommy collapse against his chest, and closing his eyes as Noah started the car and reversed out of the parking spot and onto the road.

* * *

 

When he opened his eyes again, they had just pulled into the driveway of a mid-sized house, with a picturesque mail-box which seemed to be in danger of being hit every time someone returned home.

After years of having nothing better than a crude lean-to over his head, Newt was slightly overwhelmed by the prospect of two storeys and an inside toilet. He smiled at Tommy, deciding not to give Noah a heart attack by passionately kissing the man’s son. “Is this it? Is this home?”

Noah smiled at him in the rear-view mirror, turning off the ignition, and then turning to look at the two stunned teens. “Yeah, it is for now. I paid it off while you were, well, after you’d been kidnapped, so it should be ours for the foreseeable future.” He got out of the car and opened the door for the two teens, Newt smiling at the stability of it all.

The inside of the house was just as lovely and clean as the outside had been, if a little sterile with the lack of photos and personal effects. Newt allowed himself to be directed up the stairs and led to what seemed to be Tommy’s former life’s room. The three of them stood outside of the room slightly, observing it for a few silent seconds.

Noah was the first to speak. “It was your room before you were taken Thomas, so I thought that you might want it back.”

Thomas nodded, Newt only noticing his hesitance to take the room because of how well they knew each other. “Okay.”

“It has everything that you need, there’s a computer and an X-box, you’ve grown so we can get you new clothes tomorrow, but there should be some sweatpants for you that’ll still fit. Is that okay?”

Both of the teens looked at Noah with unbridled curiosity, “What’s an X-box?” Tommy asked, Newt silently grateful that he hadn’t been forced to be the one to ask.

Noah looked at them, slightly perplexed for a moment, Newt slightly amused by his slack jaw. “We can talk about it tomorrow, it’s not important right now.” He turned to Newt, a small if slightly wary smile on his face, “We can put you in the guest room, if you would like?”

Newt wasn’t surprised by Tommy’s furious about turn, almost expecting it after everything had quietened down to a tolerable level.

“No, for as long as he wants to stay here, with me, Newt stays right here, with me.” Newt walked forward, taking Tommy’s hand as they stood side by side, “Right Newt?”

Newt smiled, “Right, Tommy.”

He almost felt sorry for the man who stood before them, his shoulders slumping as some internal part of him decided that this was not a battle worth fighting after the events of tonight. “Okay, we can discuss it in the morning, but for now, just please don’t get any noise complaints in the meantime.” He turned halfway into the hallway, before looking back over his shoulder and at the two teens. “There are pyjamas in the first drawer of the chest, if you two use those things.”

With that, he left the room, leaving the two alone in the room.

Newt was the first to walk towards the bed, flopping down onto the soft mattress. “I never want to see a bloody hammock again in my life. Not after this, nu-uh, never again.” He smiled as Tommy flopped next to him, “Let’s stay here, for a little, while my vertebrae realign.”

“Have you got a time-line for that to happen?” Tommy’s voice was sleepy, relaxed now that there was no-one to defend himself against.

“At least another month.” He got up off of the bed, shedding his shirt in the process as he made his way to the dresser, pulling out a curious looking shirt made from soft fabric. He examined the pattern tilting his head at the printed pattern. “Who or what is an Avenger, and why are they assembling?” He shrugged at it before pulling it over his head. “What do you want, you can have a man pretending to be a Bat, or severely deformed dog with a lightning bolt for a tail. Both are hideous, but the fabric is really, really soft.”

Thomas sat up, smiling at him with the familiarity which had eventually led to something much more after they’d both survived the last days of the city. “Let’s go for the delusional humanoid, yeah?” he laughed as the shirt collided with his face, quickly pulling off his own shirt, and pulling the new one over his head. “This is cosy.”

Newt moved back to the bed, collapsing alongside Tommy and reaching for a pillow. “Like I said, it’d be nice to stay here for a while.” He was slightly overwhelmed as Tommy came up to lie beside them, the space available to them something more than they had ever experienced in the medical facility or the glade. “This is all very new, the bed and all.”

“There were some, before the scorch, weren’t there?” They moved in tandem, both of them wiggling slightly to get into a more comfortable position, “More room here though.”

Newt smiled as Tommy’s arms wrapped around his waist, closing his eyes and pulling his pillow under his head fully. “This is good. This is good right?”

“We’ll be fine Newt,” they waited, letting a few quiet seconds pass them by before Tommy spoke again, “but I’m not sure that I can be who he wants me to be. I don’t even remember any of this and now it’s meant to be my life? Don’t tell me that isn’t just a little bit fucked up.”

Newt rolled over, facing Tommy, relinquishing his grip on the pillow in favour of brushing Tommy’s hair out of his face with a gentle smile. “Like you said, if we find that it’s too much, we can always leave.” He leaned forwards kissing Tommy gently and chastely on the mouth. “But I just want you to know that you never have to pretend to be anything for me. Okay?”

“And if we remember? If we change? I don’t want to lose you because of this stupid place and the people in it.”

Newt sighed, “You know, we won’t forget The Maze, won’t forget the Glade, won’t forget the Scorch, won’t forget the City.” He rolled onto his back, smiling at the ceiling. “and even if I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing, now that I’ve got what I have. I love you now, and I’ll love you if I remember before, because I’ll still remember you. And I think that you will too.” He smiled again, breathing quietly as Tommy lifted his head enough for them to lock gazes.

“Okay,” the two of them fell into silence again, Newt’s eyes drooping closed again for the second time in the night. Just before he fell asleep he heard Tommy whisper, “I love you Newt.”

“I love you too Tommy, go to sleep.”

* * *

The next time that he opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming through the windows.

Newt rolled over in Tommy’s grasp, whispering into his sleeping paramour’s ear, “Wake up Tommy, it’s daylight.” He smiled at Tommy’s sleepy protestations, eventually wriggling out of the brunet’s grasp. “C’mon, I’ve spent the last three weeks in bed and there’s finally something other than desert for me to see.” He went to the closet, looking through all of the jeans that would be too big for him in search of some sweat pants.

“There were trees in the glade, you know,” Newt looked back from the closet to see Tommy rolling around on the bed with the look of someone who wouldn’t be budged anytime soon, “and it’s not like these ones will mind if we stay in bed for another, 10 years, or something.” He buried his face in the pillow again, not noticing the devious smile on Newt’s face as the other youth walked towards the bed.

Newt almost felt sorry for Tommy as he emptied the glass of water by the bed over his head, even as he cackled while he backed away from the bed to avoid any injury to himself while Tommy thrashed around on the bed.

“For fuck’s sake, Newt!” the brunet sat up, wiping the water away from his face, smiling even as he spoke, “you could have at least used warm water! It’s nearly winter!” his voice became babyish as he grinned through the rest of his complaints, “I could get hypothermia!”

Newt rolled his eyes, grabbing some pants from the closet and throwing them at Tommy’s beatific face. “Will the t-shirts be okay? Are you meant to only wear them inside? They’re really soft.” He looked down at his own shirt, his face creasing in a frown. If he hadn’t been looking down, he might have noticed Tommy’s worried look, the other boy knowing that when Newt’s face got like that it was only a matter of time before his brain went into a panicked overdrive.

“We can put on new shirts, it’s fine Newt.” Newt looked up and smiled tersely, aware of his own tendency to panic at situations that didn’t call for it. Tommy, to his credit, smiled at Newt, distracting him from his ever-busy mind by pulling off his shirt, and stalking past him to the closet, winking on his way past. “I don’t know what this Stiles guy was thinking with most of these.”

Newt walked over to him, pulling a plain red shirt from a neat stack on the floor of the closet and breathing in it’s scent, smiling into it when Tommy took it from him with an approving smile. “You know, you look good in red when it’s not coming out of you.”

He immediately cringed.

Tommy didn’t seem to mind, throwing a loose olive green at Newt with a smile that had been increasingly rare since they had first met. “Thanks, I think.” He finally pulled the red shirt over his head, frowning when he struggled to pull it down over his stomach, the material of the shirt having missed a small growth spurt between the kidnapping and his discovery. “You’re good with flirting when you aren’t being generally flustered by my magnificent body.”

Newt rolled his eyes, taking the shirt and the sweatpants with him as he left the bedroom and walked into the hall in search of a bathroom, in spite of Tommy’s protests that his heart would surely break without him.

The bathroom was nothing to write home about, but it had a mirror which would give Newt a good view of his chest, so it would do.

He pulled his own shirt off, leaning forward to examine the dressing, looking around before pulling at the adhesive bandage, knowing that Tommy would tell him off soundly if he could see him now.

He pulled at the bandage, wincing as the sticky surface finally came off. The would itself was nearly healed, the stitches already beginning to dissolve, as Doctor Rockatansky had predicted would happen.

Even under close inspection, it was hard to believe that his own life’s blood blood had once gushed from the wound. It was insidious in it’s smallness, the fact that it didn’t accurately portray the pain which it had brought with it more upsetting to Newt than he cared to admit.

Knowing that he would soon be too distracted to be able to function for the rest of the day if he stayed staring at the wound, he pulled his shirt over his head, wincing slightly when the fabric rubbed up against the raw skin. It would have to do, at least until he could find another bandage to cover it with. He quickly pulled the pants on, returning to the bedroom, forgoing a smile for the sake of honesty in front of Tommy.

“You ready to go on our little nature walk, eh Tommy?”

Tommy stood up and walked to Newt, “You okay?”

“Just reflecting on the futility of life and all that, you know?”

Tommy nodded, and both of them stood in silence for a few seconds before he grabbed some puffy winter jackets and sweaters from the closet. Words weren’t coming to Newt’s mind that could bring back the jovial tone of earlier in the morning, and it seemed that was true of Tommy as well.

So, instead of even trying, they just left the room, sneaking down the stairs and out of the house with the kind of practiced grace that they had perfected sneaking around The City in the last days of the trials.


	4. Know that I'll Always be by Your Side

Thomas decided that he loved the trees in Beacon Hills.

They were taller than the ones in the glade ever could have ever hoped to be, and older than they ever could have been.

Thomas and Newt were still wearing the boots they had been given when they had first entered the maze; the ratty things not giving out on them just yet. When they had left the house, they’d only needed to walk out of the backyard to get into the extensive reserve which surrounded the city.

Unlike the glade, the forest here seemed to continue on forever, Thomas watching as Newt relaxed more and more the longer that they stayed in the dappled light amongst the trees. His Newt had always seemed best at peace in nature, the life seeming to be drained out of him when he’d been forced away from his gardens and into the desert.

 _Of course,_ the small vicious part of Thomas’ mind was quick to point out, _that was nothing compared to the damage you did with your knife_. He stopped in his tracks, taking a few moments to try to start breathing again, catching up to Newt, and deciding to break the silence that had so quickly gone from being comforting and understanding to being suffocated. “I’m not sure about going back to school. It sounds more painful than anything.”

He winced when Newt turned around to face him, a knowing look upon his face, “I’m not sure about being in the outside world if I’m being perfectly honest.” Thomas’s heart felt like it might break when he saw the uncertainty and fear in Newt’s face, instantly transported back to the time when they had both thought that Newt was destined to go crazy and then die.

Minho had once told him that the last time he’d seemed so hopeless before that had been shortly before a delirious Newt had been delivered to the Med-Jack’s tent with a broken leg, begging to be left alone to die.

“I mean, we go through all that, and it turns out to be the ravings of some crazed scientist with no purpose, or need.” Newt turned away from Thomas, staring at the trees. “and we’re meant to be able to figure out what to do with our lives. They glade may have been, well, it was bloody awful, but at least I had something to do.” He walked over to one of the thicker trees, putting his hand against it, clearly a little bit out of it, at least by Thomas’ measure.

“You wanted to die when you were there,” Thomas felt cruel for pointing it out, but he had to know that Newt wasn’t going to try something so desperate again, “It has to be better here, right?” He walked forward, leaning next to Newt by the tree. “Because, I couldn’t live if it was worse. I’ve already seen you dying once before. It was enough for a lifetime.”

He smiled as Newt shook his head. “Not quite that desperate, and I’ll let you know if it ever gets like that again.” He smiled, sliding down the tree bark, not stopping until he was sat at the base of it, staring up at the sky. “Do you ever miss the glade?”

Thomas shrugged, joining Newt on the soft, slightly decaying leaves, trying to find where his only companion was looking. “Well, in the short time I was there, I got verbally abused by Gally, nearly killed by a rabid Ben, got locked up, got chased by several Grievers and nearly died more times than I can count, so I think I might have missed some of the charm. Do you?”

The slightly exaggerated tirade seemed to cheer Newt up, his face less pensive, finally alive again. “I miss my garden. I miss tilling the earth, watching as the seeds I plant grow, knowing that I’d made something that would help people.” He turned to look at Thomas, looking too weary for his young age. “What if I never feel that again? What if I’m just useless for my entire life?”

Thomas shrugged, “We’ll find something, something that’s good for us. Something where we can make a difference. I promise.”

Newt nodded, collapsing against Thomas, both of them reflecting on the beauty of the world in a now companionable silence.

Of course, however comfortable the leaves may have been between them, they weren’t exactly the most stable of flooring to sit upon, especially when you considered the angle of the hill that they were sitting on.

So really, from the viewpoint of pure physics alone, it wasn’t much of a surprise that the ground went from underneath them when Newt tried to adjust himself to be closer to Thomas, sending both of the youths tumbling back down the hill that they’d only climbed a few minutes ago.

Thomas was the first to recover from the shock, although finding himself on top of Newt nearly sent him back into a state of it. He leaned down, brushing Newt’s hair out of his face, “Newt, hey, Newt, are you okay.”

His British paramour groaned, opening his eyes. “I’m fine, love, really.” He smiled up at Thomas cheekily, that increasingly common mischievous twinkle in his eyes the only warning that the brunet had before Newt launched himself upwards, kissing Thomas, and bringing his arms around his neck. “Really.”

Thomas looked around the forest, not bothering to contain his joy at the situation he had found himself in, a laugh coming freely from his lips. “Are you sure? Out here?” his eyes scanned the horizon, the check for threats something he knew he would be doing until well into his twilight years, “You aren’t hurt? From the fall?”

“No more than you, besides, it’s a better view than the scorch. No-one around for miles, which is more than I can say at home.”

Thomas nodded, beginning to pull his shirt off, smiling brightly when Newt did the same.

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to the two young lovers, who were doing their utmost best to block the world around them out, they were not actually alone in the woods. A young werewolf, wearing a scarf and around the same age as the two young men, had heard the noise that had been generated by their fall. Curious, the curly haired youth had come to investigate, finding himself shocked to see someone he had thought to be lost to Beacon Hills forever going for a roll in the proverbial hay after an eighteen-month absence.

Ultimately it was probably fortunate that this particular young werewolf had stumbled upon the two, wisely deciding to return back to his pack and his leader, rather than jumping out at them as another werewolf might have been inclined to do.

* * *

 

After they were finished, Thomas and Newt laid upon the makeshift blanket they had constructed from their outerwear, the latter dozing off in the former’s arms. Thomas, being Thomas, couldn’t help but point out something, even if it might disrupt the peace.

“You’ve taken your bandage off?” he tried to keep the accusing tone out of his voice, but not with much success if Newt’s resigned grimace was anything to go by.

“It’s healed enough for it, and it was a pain replacing it every time it got wet,” he smirked, any annoyance having been wiped away from his face, “which wasn’t something that you were particularly helpful with.” He tightened his grasp around Thomas’ waist, eyes closing of their own volition.

They stayed there for a few more minutes, maybe some hours, neither wanting to move, not caring for any obligations that they might have had back at the house. Finally, when the sun was directly above them, Thomas sat up, smiling slightly at Newt’s small surprised squawk at being displaced. He ran his hand through his ever-messy hair before finally reaching for the olive-green shirt. “Noah’s probably having a fit, we should try to get back.”

Newt nodded reluctantly, smiling as the red shirt was handed to him, reaching around in search of the rest of his clothes.

Eventually they were halfway decent, their hair and clothes still too ruffled for the activities they had been engaged in to be mistaken for anything else. That and the smell was pretty unmistakable. They set off in search of the house, not particularly surprised when they came home to a worried Noah pacing around the living room, stopping angrily when they walked up to the front step.

The Sheriff made it to the door in record time, pulling both of them in and marching them to the living room couch, both of them accepting their fate as he began to pace in front of them. Anything would have to be better than Jansen, surely.

“I was worried,” and dear lord, that brought Tommy up short, “I was worried about the two of you, I was scared that you might have been taken again.”

That was a change.

“You could have left a note, or something, next time that you decide to go for a walk at five in the morning, just something to let me know that you were okay.” The man paused, wiping a hand over his mouth and truly observing the two for the first time since they’d been pulled inside. “And I know that you don’t want to be separated, but we really need to talk about the whole… Sleeping with each other thing.”

Thomas tilted his head to the side, the exasperation clear on his face and in his tone, “We’ve already been over this a million times.”

“No actually, we’ve been over this twice and both times you’ve yelled at me until I’ve dropped the subject! There are things that normal teenagers shouldn’t be doing! That they shouldn’t know!”

Thomas tried, he really did, but he just couldn’t contain the anger to his body, jumping up.

“Like what, _dad_? Like knowing how it feels when a bullet pierces your stomach?” he should have stopped, but the rage in him, undiscovered until now, demanded an outlet, “Or how much force it takes to push a knife through someone’s chest?”

Noah stepped forward, his hands up and placating, “Stiles, please-” he winced, just a little too late.

“My name is Thomas,” the youth advanced, furious, “I don’t know who Stiles is, and I don’t want to be him! I’m sorry that they took him from you, but I’m not him! And I’m sure that he was great, and normal, but I can’t be that! I’ve nearly died too many times, and seen too many friends die to be that.”

He retreated to Newt’s side, reaching out for his paramour, oblivious to the actions of Noah behind him, “I saw you nearly die, in my arms, and I’m not, I can’t, I can’t be normal, and do things that normal teenagers do, not if it means losing you.” The brunet regained his awareness of the environment around him, turning back to his father. “I am so far past normal, Noah, I don’t care what teenagers should or shouldn’t be doing. All I care about is surviving this strange world that you keep on trying to tell me is _normal_ , and doing that with Newt by my side, and if that means leaving here, then I will!”

If he would have looked behind himself, he would have noticed that Newt had tears in his eyes.

Such was the nature of their love.

The room fell silent, the only noises of the rapid breaths of the three people inside it. Eventually, the breaths slowed, the people inside returning to some level of normalcy.

Noah wiped at his face, and if anyone noticed the moisture upon it, no-one made mention of it. He took a few steps back, lifting his head only when Thomas’ breathing had become so quiet as to be unnoticeable.

“Okay,” the sheriff looked up, “okay.” He sat down on a chair, Thomas and Newt quickly following his example. “Okay.”

“Do we need to leave?” Thomas sighed as Newt piped up, just realising that his little tirade might have cost them a roof over their heads, “Can we-”

“I’m not going to make either of you leave, it’s okay, why don’t you two clean up? We can go for some new clothes, and maybe some lunch when you’re done, okay?”

Thomas nodded, letting Newt drag him upstairs and into the bathroom.

* * *

“C’mon Tommy, don’t go catatonic on me now,” the russet haired youth pushed Thomas into the shower and frowned at the taps, eventually getting them to run a relatively decent mix of hot and cold water, “I can’t spend the rest of my life with Noah, you know how much I hate awkward silences.”

Thomas laughed brokenly, “I wouldn’t do that to you,” he pulled his shirt off, throwing it past Newt and onto the bathroom floor, his pants following quickly after, “I don’t want to leave, I’m just angry.”

“You weren’t earlier,” Thomas watched as Newt walked over to the toilet, putting the lid down and using as a chair, the brunet flinching when the other Youth’s eyes met his.

“It comes and it goes,” he bowed his head under the slightly too hot water, sighing as it hit the back of his neck, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t,” Thomas could hear the smile in Newt’s voice, “It might have even been romantic if you hadn’t been having an apoplectic fit.”

Thomas groaned, “I’m still sorry.” He got out of the shower, pulling one of the towels to his face as he gestured for Newt to take his place. He patted down his unruly hair, laughing when Newt sighed in satisfaction at the hot water’s effects on his muscles, “You alright?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that I’m dead, this is heaven!” Thomas dared sneak a look at Newt, finding the visual evidence of the love of his life’s vivacity to be reassuring in these uncertain times. “If we do get kicked out, we have to find a way to take the shower with us.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that happening now. I feel bad though, I think we broke him.”

“He can’t make you pretend to be someone that you aren’t.”

“Thanks Newt.”

“But, like I said, apoplectic fit.”

Thomas nodded, looking at his hands tiredly until Newt turned off the water and left the room. He brought his head up, gazing around the room tiredly, all of the fight having gone out of him now that he had nothing to rage against. He was brought out of his moping state by a rapidly moving dark blue t-shirt colliding with his face, followed by some black slacks. He took it with both hands, shocked by the softness of the fabric, missing his threadbare, if bloodstained light blue shirt that had followed him all the way from his first day in The Glade to being shot in The City.

It had probably been turned to ash by now, with all the other biohazards.

“You put it over your head. I would give you the other one, but it ah, well-”

“It smells like we had sex on it?” Thomas grimaced at what had seemed like a great plan earlier.

“Basically, yeah. With a little bit of pine to class it up, you know.”

Thomas smirked, pulling the shirt on over his head. Newt had already gotten dressed, wearing clothes so bland that it seemed like the still too skinny youth had actually planned to blend in with the wall behind him. If the diner carpark had been anything to go by, then it wouldn’t work.

“I’m not sure that I can do this. Not being here, we’ve hurdled over that, the whole other people thing,” Thomas sighed, looking at Newt with a sad smile. “I miss the others, they knew how not to be dicks. Except for Minho, but that was because he knew us, not because he was oblivious.”

Newt leaned forward, kissing the top of his head. “I know, put your pants on love.”

“Okay.”

* * *

The mall wasn’t nearly as traumatic as they had thought it would be. While the muted colours reminded them both of the city, there was a spontaneity in the movement of people that they’d never seen behind those concrete walls. They stood in one of the larger clothing stores, both of them overwhelmed by the infinite, monotonous, variety.

To their eternal relief, and slight chagrin, Noah was never further than about 6 feet away from them. Relief because he managed to guide them away from the screen-printed shirts with cringy pop-culture slogans that were destined to become dated in less than three months. Thomas smiled as Newt chose one with a font that seemed to scream teenage girl aesthetic, even to a kidnapping victim who was still working on the font options on his father’s phone. It suited him, the declaration for the wearer ‘Don’t Give Up Your Daydreams’ something that seemed at odds with Newt’s entire life. Maybe he could work on that now that they were free.

Noah stepped forward, smiling warily at Newt. “Maybe get the size up, you’ll gain some pounds now that you aren’t running for your life on a weekly basis.”

Newt snorted, pulling the shirt and its hanger off of the rack. He looked at Noah, both of them chuckling softly, more at the ice between them finally having been broken than the terrible humour.

Thomas recognised the mischievous grin on Newt before he spoke “It was more a daily occurrence really.”

There was a moment of silence and then, Noah got the Joke. “Well if you sign up for lacrosse, I’ve heard that coach’s suicide runs are pretty much the same thing.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and walked to the pants section.

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to him, the laughter of the two most important people in his life had attracted the attention of two girls in the dresses section.

The strawberry blonde was the first to recognise the Sheriff, nudging the raven haired girl next to her. “Allison, is it just me, or has the sheriff gotten himself a boy-toy?”

Allison turned to her, an incredulous smile on her face. “No,” she followed Lydia’s gaze, seeing the Sheriff with the strange obviously malnourished boy, “Surely not.”

She looked back to Lydia, an expression of pure disbelief on her face. She turned around again, this time finding her gaze caught by another unexpected figure in the store.

She turned back another time.

“Lydia?” she nudged her friend, “Is that Stiles?”


	5. The kid's really aren't alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas' life as always refuses to go simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a head's up, I will be taking a few days off, just to get a bit more ahead in the writing of this behemoth.
> 
> Also, I haven't decided if I want Jackson to be in this or not, so your feedback on this issue would be appreciated.

Thankfully, both Lydia and Allison had been raised with better manners than any of the Hale children. Instead of stalking forward, they simply stood there, both of their mouths slightly ajar.

Newt was the first to notice, moving towards Tommy cautiously. He smiled at the other youth’s focused determination on the pieces of clothing that were barely distinguishable from one another. He joined him, looking at the smaller sizes, knowing that his hips, even with a nutritious diet, would never be quite as wide as Tommy’s.

Their fingers brushed, Tommy looked at him with a smile that he hadn’t seen since the early days of his stay in The Glade. It took Newt’s breath away, forgetting his original purpose momentarily.

“It’s not as terrifying as I thought that it would be,” he grinned, “does this make me an adult?”

“Noah said we still had to learn about taxes before that could happen.” He jerked his head at the two girls he had spotted staring at them, relieved that Tommy followed it immediately, “So, agents of WCKD trying to kill us? Or former friends?” he grabbed Tommy’s hand, squeezing slightly.

Tommy assessed the two girls, both of them blushing under his gaze, pretending to look at dresses.

“Agents of WCKD wouldn’t blush.” He returned to looking at the clothes, shrugging, “And are not actually real.” He took a deep breath, smiling tersely at Newt. “I have no idea what I’m doing here Newt.” He shrugged, looking at two practically identical pairs of pants for the third time.

Thankfully Noah caught up to them, “It’s alright, I still use tic-tac-toe to figure it out. Just pick the ones with the stretchiest waist and we’ll go.” He smiled at both of them reassuringly.

“Don’t we need to pick some more shirts?” Tommy asked, no defiance in his voice for once.

“I got some in your sizes. We still need to find you some shoes, the boots are getting you looks.”

Newt and Tommy smiled, looking at each other. Eventually it was Tommy that took the lead, “Hey, these boots have survived a desert, and falling from the 5th floor of a building. Show them some respect.” He brought his hand to his heart, mocking hurt.

Noah laughed, picking up three pairs of pants for both of them, and herding them towards the check-outs, “How about we respect them by putting them in a glass case, marked with biohazard?”

Newt couldn’t help the snort that spilled out of him.

The three walked out of the clothes store, entering the nearest footlocker. Newt tensed as they were greeted by one of the employees.

This was going to be a very uncomfortable touchy-feely experience, he could just tell.

Sensing the awkwardness, Noah turned to both of the youths in his charge, settling his hands on their shoulders. “This is going to be uncomfortable, strangers will be touching feet, but on the plus side, you only have to do it once, and after that we can get food, okay?”

Newt nodded, stepping forward first, “Okay. Let’s get this shit-show over with.”

He spent the next five minutes blocking out the rest of the world, unsurprisingly, he didn’t particularly enjoy the sensation of a stranger touching his feet. Hell, he didn’t even like the sensation of Tommy touching his feet. In this situation, it was all that he could do to keep his heart rate slightly below the threshold where it would technically be called an infarction.

It wasn’t going particularly well, his eyes staying firmly closed until he felt Tommy’s hands on his face. He opened them to see the deep brown eyes of his one true companion in the world.

“It’s okay, love, it’s okay.” He smiled, Newt trying to do this same with very little success.

“I don’t feel so good Tommy,” he realised that his voice was slurring, noticing Tommy’s eyes widening just before he collapsed in his arms.

* * *

Noah didn’t know how it was possible for such an innocuous day to become so threatening in the space of only a few hours.

He was sat in the waiting room with Sti-, no _Thomas_ , no, _His Son_ , both of them confined to the room while Newt had been taken away by a medical team. He hated the way that the boy who had been so close to opening up, who had shown tinges of being carefree, was now hunched over in his chair, refusing to respond to any of his questions.

“He’ll be alright Thomas, I promise,” he laid a hand upon his son’s back, “the doctors and nurses here are very good.” He paused, trying to assess Thomas’s mood without access to his face. “You kinda skipped breakfast, do you want me to get you some chocolate?”

Thomas shook his head, looking up for the first time in five minutes, his eyes red with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he stood up, Noah wincing when he saw his boy run his hand through his hair, just as he had always done when he was younger and inconsolable. There were some things that even brainwashing couldn’t get rid of it seemed.

“Thomas,” he held his hands up placatingly, “I know that you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but you’re going to collapse yourself if you don’t eat something. So why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get us something to eat, okay?”

He didn’t expect for it to work, but he still sighed in frustration when his son shook his head.

“Why won’t they let me see him?” Thomas wiped at his eyes, the tears finally breaking through. “You’re the sheriff, can’t you make them do something?”

Noah stood up, reaching out for his son, and sighing in relief when the boy accepted the hug, “It wouldn’t do him any good Thomas, he needs to be taken care of by the doctors, because they’ll know what was going on with him, okay?” he pulled away, looking his son in the eyes, “Now, Doctor Rockatansky gave me his medical information, but it’s at home so I need you to stay here while I go and get it for them, okay”

He smiled when Thomas nodded, patting him on the back.

“You’re going to be fine, I promise.”

And with that he walked towards the exit of the hospital, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

* * *

Thomas felt naked without his knife. Noah had convinced him to leave it at home for the sake of the mall’s security guards, and it wasn’t like you could exactly ask an ambulance team to swing by your house when the love of your life was unconscious in the back.

After his father had left, he’d returned to his original seat, knowing that regardless of how long it took for them to assess Newt, it would feel like eternity to him.

That was where the curly haired nurse found him. He groaned when she stopped dead in her tracks in front of him. It figured that yet another person would decide to interrogate him at the least convenient time possible. He tensed as she walked towards him, keeping his head down.

“Stiles?” she crouched in front of him, smiling at him with her teeth showing, “Stiles, is that you?”

He turned away from her gaze, looking at the doors as though that might magically bring Noah back, so that he wouldn’t need to explain the situation himself. He wasn’t sure that he was capable of speaking at the moment.

She reached out with one hand, letting it rest on his knee for a millisecond before he flinched violently. She withdrew it, holding it up placatingly, “It’s okay, I’m sorry.” She looked around for a few seconds, eventually returning her focus to him. “Does your dad know you’re back?”

Thomas nodded. He could do that at least, even while his heart beat too fast for him to breathe.

She smiled, “Okay. Do you want me to call him?”

He responded with a furious shake of his head, finally meeting her eyes. _Nothing that could distract him from Newt, it was too important_.

She frowned, holding her hand up as she rose. “I’m just going to check something, stay here for a second okay?”

Thomas didn’t mind, it wasn’t like he was going to leave the hospital when Newt was still here. He couldn’t help but remember the sensation of Newt falling against him in the Footlocker, and how similar it had been to when he had fallen limp against him in The City, just before-

No, he couldn’t think of that, not now.

The nurse returned, taking the seat next to him this time. “It says that you came in with another teenager. His name is Newt? IS that right?” she continued after he nodded, smiling, “I’m not sure how you got here, but I’m very glad that you’re back.” She sighed when he didn’t respond, throwing her hands up jokingly and standing up, “It’s not like you to be so quiet. And seeing as you aren’t in a talkative mood, I’m going to assume it’s about your friend.” She smiled at him, “The file said low blood sugar, if that makes you feel better, we’re just keeping him in for now because he’s so thin.”

“He’s always been like that,” he surprised himself with the sentence, his eyes widening at it.

“He’s always been borderline malnourished?” she raised her eyebrow, giving him the once over while she did so, “You aren’t looking so good yourself. Wait here.” She walked over to the nurses’ station, picking up a few strange looking instruments and returned with them. She smiled again as she pulled what Thomas recognised to be a stethoscope up to her ears. “Shirt up please.”

Thomas complied, his muscle memory betraying him. He closed his eyes, willing his heartbeat to slow just a little bit.

It didn’t work.

“Wow, Stiles, it’s like a jackhammer in there!” she pulled the stethoscope off, putting it to the side, her other medical tests forgotten.

“My name is Thomas,” he ignored her curious frown, “and it’s always like that.”

The nurse stiffened, and Thomas had no idea what he would have done if Noah hadn’t returned to the waiting room, a medical file in his hand. The man froze when he saw the Nurse sitting next to Thomas.

“Melissa,” he exhaled heavily, “It’s good to see you again.”

The Nurse stood up, Thomas relaxing as she walked over to Noah. “Yeah, it’s been a while, like, you know,” she coughed, “a year.” She turned back to Thomas, a confused look on her face, “Um, can we talk? In private, I mean.”

Noah winced as Thomas tensed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, right now. His, um boyfriend, I guess is the term I’m using right now, was brought in. Just a bit ago, goes by the name of Newt.”

Melissa’s eyes widened, and she looked back at Thomas, a sympathetic look that he couldn’t stand clear on her face. “Oh well, then, um, they had to do a small exam, just to ascertain what was wrong. He’s on a glucose drip now.” Thomas was surprised by how quickly her voice became professional, the pertinent information given without even a trace of emotion, even as she walked back to his side. “It’s just to bring his blood sugar up to normal levels, so that he feels better when he wakes up.”

Thomas cleared his throat, getting their attention. “When can I see him?”

Melissa turned to him, “He’s asleep right now, and we don’t want him to be disturbed, but when he wakes up and we make sure he’s okay, you’ll be able to visit. He’s stable if you’re worried.” She looked at the clock, “And my shift is nearly over. So I’m just going to grab Newt’s files from your dad and make sure that we know everything that we’ll need to help him. Okay?”

Thomas nodded, sighing in relief when she and Noah walked to the Nurse’s station. He leant his head against the wall, letting his eyes droop closed now that he knew that he wasn’t going to have to live through a repeat of The City. He could live with Newt on low blood sugar, it was fine.

Of course, as soon as that debacle had ended another one popped up. This time in form of a seventeen-year-old entering the waiting area with a smile on his face.

“Mom, I’m early, the restaurant was less busy than usual.”

The boy froze when he saw Thomas, and Thomas tensed. This was too fucking much. If he had to listen to one more person react to him having come back in Stiles’ place, her was going to scream. It wasn’t the smartest thing he was ever going to do, but when he saw Noah nod understandingly, he did what he did best.

He ran. Used the one applicable skill he had gained in the maze to get away from the room.

He let his body take over, getting lost in the rhythm of his hear beat as he made his way across the town, heading back towards the preserve, taking at least a half hour.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that he had been followed, knowing that his exit had been dramatic enough to warrant it. He ignored the presence of the other boy until he reached the spot he and Newt had occupied only hours beforehand. He collapsed down onto the leaves, panting heavily as he waited to be accosted by the boy with the crooked mouth.

“Oh, just get it over with!” he looked up, hoping that he looked terrifying enough to keep the stranger at bay. Much to his surprise, the boy kept his distance, smiling softly and crouching down in front of him after a few silent seconds.

“It’s Thomas now, right?” he smiled, looking around the forest with a serene smile on his face, “Derek told me that you were back and, well he said crazy, but I figured he was exaggerating. It’s good to see you again.”

Thomas nodded, “I’m not him anymore, your friend, I’m not Stiles.” He frowned, feeling tears pricking at his eyes for the second time that day, “He’s gone, so if that’s why you’re here.”

The boy shook his head, “I came because I was worried you’d get hit by a car on the way here, or get eaten by coyote.” He smiled, shaking his head, “Also your friend is going to wake up soon according to my mom, and your dad thought it might be good if you were there for it. What happened to him?”

Thomas shook his head, “he just collapsed, right in front of me,” he wiped at his face. “It’s going to take a ridiculous amount of time for us to get back now, isn’t it?” He shook his head, a sob escaping from him as he began to rock back and forth on his feet.

“It’s okay, I called my girlfriend, she’s coming with her car. We’ll be back there in less than five minutes, so you’ll be back in time for him in no time at all.” He walked forward, offering Thomas his hand, “It’s okay. I understand why you freaked out, no-one will judge you for that.

“I’m not worried about what anyone thinks, I just don’t want to leave Newt behind.”

“Okay, that’s good. Now how about you get up and we’ll go?”

Much as Thomas hated to get in cars with practical strangers, he knew he had no choice, following the boy as they walked for a few minutes through the woods. He did his best not to bristle when the boy pulled him towards an idling car on the side of the rode.

“It’s okay, Stiles, we know her.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes, getting into the car because he knew he’d get lost if he tried to run back to the hospital. He groaned when he saw the dark-haired girl from the mall behind the driver’s seat, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Hi Stiles,” she turned back to the wheel as the still unknown boy jumped into the passenger seat, pulling out onto the highway.

“My name is Thomas.”

“Oh,” she smiled, sharing a look with the boy that Thomas had no hope of deciphering, “Okay, We’re about 3 minutes away from the hospital, so you don’t need to worry.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, he knew that his recent theatrics didn’t suggest it, but he was actually a reasonable human being who didn’t need to be talked to like a toddler. “Personally, I’m more worried about you two murdering me and then dumping me on the highway.”

“Oh,” their eyes locked in the rear-view, “well, we won’t, if that helps.”

There was an awkward silence in the air for the rest of the ride, Thomas looking out the window and occasionally scrubbing at his face with his hands.

Eventually they pulled into the hospital carpark, Thomas pulling his seatbelt off and getting out of the car before they’d even found a spot, much to the shock of the two strangers in the car.

He ran into the hospital, nodding at his father, not quite ready to talk as they were lead by the curly-haired nurse to one of the patient’s rooms. The nurse turned to him, smiling carefully.

“So, he’s beginning to wake up, the sedatives should’ve worn off by now. He might be a bit confused when he wakes up, so just be prepared for him to be a bit groggy, okay?

Thomas nodded and entered the room as Newt’s eyes were just beginning to flicker open. He sat next to him by the bed, smiling when the most important person in the world to him took his hand with both of his.

“Morning Tommy,” he closed his eyes again, rolling over to face the brunet, “I knew it was all a dream.”

“What do you mean Newt?” Thomas leaned forwards, resting his nose against Newt’s hair.

“WCKD has us again, don’t they?” Newt smiled sadly, “And if they have us again, it means you have to kill me? Doesn’t it?”


	6. We are Brothers in Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt recovers. This is not without anget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided on Thomas' pet name for Newt. Love works for Newt to Thomas because his British, but I can't think of anything suitable for Thomas. Everything I try is too overwrought.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated,
> 
> Also do you want Jackson, because I have an idea for him, but I'm not 100%

Thomas froze at Newt’s words. His mouth dropped open, shut by Newt as he trailed a hand along his jaw-bone.

“It’s alright Tommy, you know I had the most wonderful dream?” Newt flopped back onto the pillows, looking at the ceiling with a small sad smile upon his face, “We were safe, in a little city, surrounded by woods. You had a father, and he was nice.”

“Newt, that’s where we are now,” his voice cracked, and he looked to the door, willing for someone to walk through so he wouldn’t have to explain himself, “We got out, we’re living with my dad now.”

Newt shook his head, becoming upset even as Thomas moved to reassure him, frantically moving towards the door, pulling his IV out in the process, “No!” he shoved Thomas back, the brunet so surprised that he fell off on the chair and onto the ground, wincing as he landed on his hip. “You’re lying!” Even on the floor, Thomas could hear Newt scrambling out of the bed and into the corner.

Thomas stood, keeping a safe distance from Newt, attempting to placate him with his hands. “I’m not lying, Newt, I’m not. You collapsed, while we were getting clothes, so we took you to hospital, that’s where we are now.”

The door opened, Melissa coming in, her face set in a frown when she saw Newt and Thomas. Her eyes locked with Thomas’ for a second, the young man gesturing desperately as she walked further into the room. She turned to Newt, making a small, painfully fake smile as she walked towards the bed. “Hey Newt, my name is Melissa, I’m one of the nurses that works here.” She stopped a few feet away from him, crouching to be at his eye level. “Thomas and his father brought you in after you collapsed from low blood sugar earlier today, and we’ve ben treating you. “Do you remember that?”

Newt didn’t answer, his gaze flicking back and forth between Melissa and Thomas. It broke Thomas’ heart to see the uncertainty in his love’s eyes. Eventually the russet haired boy settled on Thomas, tears coming to his eyes before he began to speak, “I don’t remember.”

Melissa was the first to respond, the words obviously familiar to her, “It’s a common side effect after being unconscious for a long period of time, it’s nothing to panic about.”

Newt shook his head again, “I don’t believe you,” he crammed himself into the corner as best as he was able, shaking his head when Melissa reached out for him.

Thomas walked forward, passing Melissa and settling in front of Newt, he reached out both hands and smiled at him, “Newt, it’s me, I promise.” He inched forward slightly, sighing in relief when Newt allowed it. “I can prove it, What’s the last thing that you remember, I’ll prove it’s me, not WCKD.”

Newt frowned, “I remember being in the city, I was dying,” he licked his lips, looking away, at the wall, “And you were trying to carry me, towards the tunnels where the others were.”

“And you gave me a bullet,” Thomas sniffled, smiling at Newt even as the tears began to form in his eyes. “with a letter in it. I read it, after surgery, you were there. You wrote it when you knew you had the flare. And you said that you wouldn’t have changed a thing, even knowing everything you do. And you said you were my mate, because you thought I was in love with Theresa and you didn’t want me to feel guilty about what had happened. Do you remember?”

Newt nodded, moving closer. “You read it to me, while we were in recovery.” He looked around the room, “I don’t know this place, Tommy, I don’t know…”

“It’s alright, we haven’t been here before, it’s not a trick. I promise.” He reached forward, sighing in relief when Newt grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Fuck Tommy,” he cried into Thomas’ shoulder, heaving sobs wracking his body, “Fuck, I’m so scared. I’m so fucking scared, Please Tommy, I’m so scared.”

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” Thomas rocked backwards and forwards, eventually settling his chin on the top of Newt’s head. “We’re going home soon, and it’ll be fine, I promise.” He looked at Melissa, trying to convey how important that was to her without words. After a few seconds, where she seemed to be considering refusing his request, she nodded.

“There’s no point in keeping him here if it’s going to cause him distress,” she walked over to them, crouching down beside Newt, “So, now that’s settled, I need to have a look at your arm Newt.”

Newt shifted his head, looking at Melissa warily, “Why?”

Melissa smiled, back to her professional self, “Well, you see, we had an IV in it, and when you pulled it out, you might have ripped at the skin. I just want to make sure it isn’t bleeding, and patch it up if it is. Does that sound okay?”

Newt nodded, holding it out, burying his head into Thomas’ shoulder once again. The brunet looked at her as she carried out her examination, keeping one hand on the back of Newt’s head, carding it through the British youth’s hair. When Melissa frowned, he kissed the top of Newt’s head before turning slightly to the nurse. “What’s wrong?”

Melissa shrugged, “He tore the skin a bit, nothing that’ll need stitches, but I’d still like to cover it up.” She tapped Newt on the arm twice, smiling when he looked at her again, “Is it okay if I put a covering on this? It should be able to come off in a few days, maybe even tomorrow.”

Newt nodded, quickly hiding his face again. Melissa smiled, walking over to a metal cupboard in the room which she looked through for a few seconds, talking as she did, “Now, it occurred to me that, and I say this with the deepest love for my son,” she returned with some supplies, sitting cross legged by Newt’s side, “that he might have forgotten to introduce himself properly.”

Thomas smiled, “That’s right.”

Melissa nodded, “Oh, my sweet angel. His name is Scott. Newt, I’m going to put an antiseptic ointment on the wound, it might sting a bit, okay?” She waited for Newt’s nod before proceeding in her work with a swab, the conversation starting again too, “And he knew Stiles from a very young age, he was pretty devastated by when you went missing.” She threw the swab at the bin, smiling when it got in, “Okay, I’m just going to cover this up now, and then we’ll be good to go. The girl with him is called Allison,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “they broke up recently, but I don’t think he’s quite over it, so, tread carefully.” She smiled, standing up, “We’re done.”

Thomas nodded, he and Newt supporting each other as they stood. “Can we have a minute?”

Melissa nodded and left the room.

Thomas pulled back from Newt enough to look him in the eye, “You okay?”

Newt shook his head, looking anywhere but Thomas’ eyes. “I’m not, everything’s fucked, and I don’t know what I’m doing, and I feel like I can’t control anything.” He wiped at his face. “Help me?”

Thomas nodded, walking forwards again, stopping just before he reached Newt, “So, everything is definitely fucked, I feel like we can agree on that. But, I know that we’re staying here, together. And then, maybe we’ll go to school, or get jobs. But we’ll be together, so everything will be okay.” He shrugged, looking towards the door, “and I know we need more than that, but for now can you live?”

Newt nodded, taking Thomas’s hand and leading him out of the room, smiling when Noah came up to them. The older man put his hands on his hips, but the gentle expression on his face belied his stance, “Feeling better, kiddo?”

Newt nodded, pulling Thomas towards him. Thomas frowned at Newt’s silence, but didn’t say anything. They could take about it later, in private.

* * *

Noah smiled, turning when Melissa called to him. He looked back at the two boys, trying to look reassuring, “Just wait here a sec, I think Melissa wants to talk to me, okay?” He walked off without waiting for their answer, following the nurse around the bend where they couldn’t be heard or seen.

She turned to him, concern clear on her face. “I looked through Newt’s notes,” she frowned, “and there’s a section in his medical history that I find concerning.”

Noah puts his hands on his hips, “Concerning enough to break doctor patient confidentiality?”

She sighed, raising a hand to rest it on Noah’s arm, “The issue is that this isn’t. Newt’s file says he has an improperly healed break in his leg.”

Noah nodded, confused, “I mean, he did spend a huge amount of time being experimented on by a crazy scientist, right?” He frowned as Melissa shook her head, “What am I missing here?”

“The file says that it was likely caused by a fall from a tall structure, which” she looked down and began to quote, “ ‘Newt claims was gained in an accident where he fell from a structure in what he and the other patients refer to as ‘the maze’,” she stopped, looking up.

“Melissa, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

She looked back at the file, “Other patients, such as ‘Minho’ and ‘Frypan’ have confirmed that this happened during a suicide attempt.” She closed the file, looking up at him, “Noah, I need to you know this, okay? It’s my responsibility as a health care provider to inform people if I think he’s going to cause harm to himself or another person, and, well after today, I worry.” She shrugged.

“What do you think that I should do?” Noah looked behind himself as though he worried Newt was going to round the corner with all of the talk of him, “Because when I try to talk to them, they just-”

Melissa sighed, “Don’t worry, it’s a common occurrence, even with kids who haven’t been kidnapped and experimented on. Just wait for them to be comfortable, it’ll be much easier then”

Noah nodded, “Thank you Melissa.” He nodded at her, then walked back round to Newt and Thomas, who were waiting in awkward silence with Scott and Allison. “Thomas, Newt,” he called at, smiling at them when they turned to him with relief on their faces, “time to hit the road.”

He walked past them to the door, feeling them walk behind him, only turning when they reached the car and he saw that Thomas was walking to the passenger seat, “Hey kiddo, I think Newt wouldn’t mind some company in the back this time.”

Thomas’ face lit up, and Noah resisted the urge to laugh as his son practically fell over himself to get in the back with Newt. He sighed as he got into the front of the jeep, half wishing that Claudia had chosen a slightly more knee friendly vehicle when she had chosen a set of wheels. He sighed again when he checked the rear view mirror, not liking how deflated Newt looked against his son’s chest.

They would have to talk soon, before anything completely fucked up happened.

The drive home was yet another quiet one in Noah life, the only excitement coming from when a squirrel decided to run across the road, leaving him just enough time to break. Mostly it was just the empty suburban road, occasionally punctuated by quick checks of the back seat. The two boys occupying it were mostly silent, Thomas occasionally kissing the top of Newt’s head when they went around a corner. Noah had made his peace with that relationship, his only issue now that he kept on being reminded of himself and Claudia during the earliest days of their relationship.

Eventually they returned home, Noah barely remembering to pull their shopping out of the back while Newt and Thomas walked towards the front door. It seemed the biohazards they were calling boots these days would have to do for another day.

Newt and Thomas looked lost when they finally got back into the house, so he shepherded them into the kitchen, gesturing for them to sit down while he put some water into the kettle, and grabbed some cups out of the cupboard. “Today was a bit of a disaster.”

He saw Thomas flinch out of the corner of his eye, the youth looking at him with fearful and uncertain eyes. “I’m sorry Noah, we can try to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Noah turned, shocked, “No, Thomas, you don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry, I should’ve fed you before we went out. Or not yelled at you. Either way, you were stressed and it couldn’t have helped you. So don’t say sorry, because you have nothing to be sorry for. Okay?”

The kettle began to whistle, and he walked back to it. He poured the cups of tea, smiling when Thomas came to help him carry them over to the table. “Thanks son.” He sat down, facing the two of them. “Now, I know that the only thing you want to do right now is probably sleep, but we need to talk about school.”

“Do we have to?” Newt piped up for the first time in a long while, “I thought that we’d already been tortured enough for one lifetime.”

“The school district doesn’t feel that way, unfortunately, you’re going to have to go. There’s a screening session in two days to determine what year they should put you in, and you need to go. I’m sorry,” he sipped at his tea, smiling at the taste, “I tried.”

“Can you come with us?” Thomas asked, looking at Newt who had once again become silent at the situation, a frown which worried Noah on the boy’s face, “Not for the test, but I don’t want to have to go there alone, without someone who knows what’s going on.”

“I have to go to work afterwards, but I can take you all the way to the room if you want. They said that there’s another kid taking it, so you won’t be outnumbered if that’s what you’re worrying about.” He finished his tea, looking at Newt with a weary smile. “Now, I know that you want to sleep now, but it’ll wreck your internal clocks if you do, and I already feel like an irresponsible parent. Why don’t we watch a movie? I still have all of your DVD’s from before.”

Thomas frowned, “What’s a DVD?”

Noah smiled, “It’s something that’s better to see instead of have explained to you, come on.”

The three walked into the living room, Thomas and Newt collapsing onto the love-seat while the sheriff took the recliner. “And then there’s Netflix,” he flipped on the TV, opening up his Netflix account and going through the comedy’s section. He flicked through, looking at the boys. “Now, I know that you don’t have a great idea of what movies are like, but what sort of story do you want?”

Thomas looked at Newt, smiling, “Something with a happy ending. Please.”

Noah smiled, returning to the main menu and going through the search bar until he found what he was looking for. And so, that’s how they began to watch _Mad Max: Fury Road_.

* * *

Newt couldn’t stop crying. It had started when Angharad had fallen off of the war rig, and there were no signs of it stopping when Furiosa and the Many Mothers were levered up into the citadel. He had tried to stifle the sobs, but he’d still managed to get Tommy’s attention, the love of his life pulling him into his arms around the moment that Max had destroyed the Bullet Farmer’s vehicle.

He was worried, he had basically ruined everyone’s day, and he was waiting for the repercussions to hit him in the face. He should have been told off, not talked to understandingly and given tea. But here he was, sitting in the living room of a house that he was beginning to call his own, being held by his love, and being wrapped in blankets by Noah.

“It’s okay, Newt, it’s okay.” Noah raised the blankets to cover his chin, “I knew there was about a fifty percent chance of that happening when we started watching, you can let it out.”

Newt shuddered internally as his sobs renewed.

“Why don’t you try to talk about it, it might make you feel better.”

Newt shook his head, “I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Newt, you’ve been through a lot, this is perfectly normal, okay?”

Newt nodded. He let Tommy help him out of his chair, and lead him upstairs to bed, obviously having missed something important between Tommy and Noah.

He collapsed on the bed, still crying as Tommy removed his boots, and got into the bed next to him.

“I’m sorry Tommy, I’m sorry.”

Tommy kissed him on the neck, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” Newt continued to cry, shaking into the mattress, “I love you so much.”

“You don’t understand, Tommy, we were just ants to her, to be played with for her own amusement until she got bored or we died!”

“I know, Newt, I know.”

“And I thought maybe there was something for us, but really, we’re just here, and for the rest of our lives…” he continued to cry, losing the ability to speak as the sobs were wrenched out of his throat.

“No, Newt,” Tommy rolled him over, and pulled them up until they were sitting face to face on the bed, “You and I, we’re going to be okay, and I just need you to hold on for a little bit, and then we’ll find something just for us, and It’ll be perfect, okay? We just need to hold on for a little bit longer.”

“Please Tommy, promise me that you know that’s true.”

“I’ll make it true, I swear.”

Tommy brushed the hair out of Newt’s eyes, smiling as Newt finally got his breathing under control.

“I love you Newt, I love you so much, please hold on for me at least until there’s something else to hold on for.”

Newt nodded.

It would have to do.


	7. I've found a place for us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to reintegrate into society.

The next two days were spent in a soft haze of blankets, Mad Max movies and tea. Noah went for shoes and more clothes, bringing them back to Newt and Thomas who remained ensconced in bed, save for when they needed to use the toilet or shower. Thomas was glad of his father’s absence, finding that it allowed him more time to spend alone with Newt. For the first time that he could remember, he was allowed to be gentle in everything he did.

After dinner on the first day, he removed the knife from the bedroom and put it in the kitchen.

Newt was still subdued, but there were genuine smiles on his face every once in a while. He didn’t seem to mind the way that Thomas spent most of their free time lavishing attention upon him, smiling every time he was pushed up against a wall, or onto the bed, responding to every question of continuing in the affirmative with enthusiasm.

It was only on the evening of the second day that reality caught up to them, both of the youths realising that they had no choice but to leave the house and face the world. To Thomas’s surprise, it was Newt who spoke first about it as both of them lay on the bed.

“This is probably a good thing.”

Thomas looked at him in shock. He sat up slightly, looking over Newt’s shoulder to try to see his lover’s eyes, “Care to elaborate?”

“We can make something of our lives now, Tommy, we don’t have to think about if we’re going to live to the end of the day, so we can actually live instead of surviving.”

Thomas nodded, smiling as he lay back down. “What do we do if we don’t even make it to high school though? Can you imagine being stuck in a room filled with alphabet posters?”

“Tommy, you know enough maths to snip from up to a kilometre away, you’ll be fine.”

“Well, you know how to steal a train, so I think you’ll be fine too. I still don’t want to go.”

Newt turned around and kissed him. “I’ll be with you for every step of the way, okay? From the first bell in the morning until we get home in the afternoon.”

“And after that?”

“Sometimes a man needs to spend time on his own,” Newt smiled, “By which I mean that I hate having to use a bathroom in your presence,” he opened his eyes wide and laughed at Thomas, “and you are so, so clingy.” He leaned forward, kissing Thomas on the lips and groaning no when Thomas tried to roll the slightly smaller youth on top of him. “You are insatiable, and I love you, but no, I am way too tired.”

Thomas shrugged, rolling Newt over and wrapping his arms around him. He laughed into his neck, “It’s just that I was going for a record, and I hear that seven is a lucky number,” he laughed again as Newt snorted, kissing the back of Newt’s neck and smiling when Newt awkwardly patted him on the head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go to sleep.”

So Thomas, ever the good boyfriend, did.

* * *

The next morning Thomas and Newt woke to the smell of beautiful cooking. Thomas was the first to get up, gently disentangling himself from the slowly awakening Newt and creeping out of the room. He knelt at the top of the stairs, leaning forward ever so slightly to try to see if Noah was in the kitchen. He snuck down the stairs, smiling when he saw his father at the stove.

“Go wake up your boyfriend Thomas,” Noah turned around, leaving the bacon to sizzle by itself for a few seconds, “You need to leave in an hour and a half to get to the tests, so I thought you might like a cooked breakfast. There’s enough for you and Newt to have seconds, okay?”

Thomas nodded and smiled, returning to his room to find Newt sitting awake in the middle of the bed. “Noah’s making us breakfast,” he grinned, “before we kick this exam’s ass. Well, seven exams asses. You know what I mean, darling.”

Newt scrunched up his face, getting out of the bed and walking over to Thomas, kissing him lightly on the cheek before he turned and went to one of the dressers. “Darling?” he turned back with two shirts, throwing one of them at Thomas’ head with a grin on his face.

“I’m trying to think of something for you, and I’m not British, so I can’t get away with love, like you.” He pulled his pyjama shirt off and pulled the offered shirt on, “What would you like better?” he advanced forward, “Sweetheart?” another step towards the russet haired boy, “Babe?” he helped Newt to pull his shirt off, kissing the scar above his heart before Newt pulled his shirt back on.

“We don’t have time for this, Tommy,” Newt’s smile belied his words, he walked forwards, kissing Thomas again. “Afterwards, we can go out to the forest again yeah?” he smiled wickedly, “yeah?” He moved towards the closet, offering Thomas a pair of pants to pull on over his boxers.

“Yeah,” Thomas smiled, holding Newt’s hand after they’d both pulled on their clothes, “Noah’s made everything that we need. Breakfast wise that is.” He pulled Newt towards the door, and they walked down the stairs together, “And remember, if you change your mind-”

“I know, we can run off and be free in the world together,” Thomas’ heart soared at Newt’s smile, “But first, lets at least try to pass mathematics.” He kissed Thomas again before he took the lead, entering the kitchen first and making a bee-line to the freshly fried bacon that was sitting on a plate next to the stove.

The three members of the newly reassembled Stilinski family ate breakfast in a state of quiet contentment, Newt eating thirds, much to the relief of Thomas and to a lesser extent Noah. He was the skinnier of the two youths, and to someone who didn’t know who he was, it looked like he would be blown away by a large gust of wind.

This was a fear shared by people who knew him well, although they tended to know that his stubbornness would never allow that to happen.

Eventually, time did what it always does, and it was time for the two boys to leave.

Noah was the one to drive them to the school, though he told them that they would need to take the bus home, the department needing him to go in to work, even though he’d barely finished the first week of his leave.

Thomas didn’t mind, now that he knew there were vaguely friendly faces in the student body, he was less concerned by the idea of being around people.

Beacon Hill’s High School was far more innocuous than Thomas had thought it would be, his only recollection of the brief time he had spent in an educational environment being far more high security, and filled with insane scientists. It almost seemed too normal, but Newt’s reassuring glance assured him that they were both being equally ridiculous, and that they should go into the building, rather than fleeing into the woods and away from civilisation.

They walked up the steps, an elegant woman in a nice dress waving at them with a smile. “Thomas? Newt?” she walked up to them, gesturing for them to follow her, “You still have fifteen minutes before the test starts, but I wanted to make sure that you knew where you were going. My name is Mrs. Martin, I’m the interim Science teacher here.” She turned, still smiling at them, gesturing for Thomas to enter a room, “Your father mentioned that you don’t like to be separated, but unfortunately for test conditions, we’re putting all of the new students into separate rooms.”

Thomas turned to her before he entered the room, frowning slightly. “All of the students?”

Mrs. Martin nodded, “If everyone does well, Beacon Hill’s High School will have three New Junior students by the end of today.”

Thomas entered the room, nodding to Newt before he was locked in. He breathed deeply, sitting down at the lone desk in the small room, waiting for the test to begin.

* * *

It was not, all things considered, a completely awful test. Sure he’d had to alter most of the questions in the math section, so that food items were replaced with bullets, diners were replaced with cranks, and train schedules were replaced with a Newt driven truck. The literature essay had been easy enough once he figured out how to say nothing at all but with big words. When he got to the Science section he gave up, knowing a little bit about the nervous system, but starting to guess randomly when it started asking about protein structure. Somehow, Spanish had been okay, a surprising amount of Jorge’s mannerisms having translated into a basic knowledge of the language.

After that was a lunch break, Mrs. Martin kind enough to bring him a tray from the cafeteria. She stayed with him while he ate, joking that she needed to prevent a jail break.

“I know you probably can’t say much, but is Newt okay?” He sipped at the milk, looking at her with pleading eyes, “Please, I worry about him.”

She smiled, light shimmering in her eyes, “He’s fine, asked the same questions about you when I dropped off his food. The coach is with him, but it looks like he’ll pull through.” She picked up his tray, smiling at him as she left the room, “Only three left to go.”

Thomas had known he would fail history, randomly choosing the answers which sounded the most ridiculous. Economics had been alright, Thomas having learnt about running something vaguely resembling a business during his time with the Immunes after the scorch. But truly, of all of the many trials of the day, there was none so challenging as art. Apparently it had been one of Stiles’ subjects before he was taken by WCKD. Thomas found it incomprehensible, most of the artist’s names blurring into an amalgam of French when he tried to bring them to mind. Thankfully there was no practical component of the examination, otherwise Thomas was worried he would have embarrassed himself beyond hope of repair.

Eventually he found himself ushered outside of the classroom into a waiting area outside of the principal’s office. Newt was already there, with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall.

“My love,” he called out, grinning when Newt stuck his tongue out, and opened his eyes.

“We are going to have to find something else for you to call me, because that, it doesn’t work, at all.” Newt stood, walking over to Thomas and brushing his messy hair away from his forehead with one hand. “How’d you go?”

“I don’t think that they’ll want me in art class.”

“Well, they’re standardised tests, you’ve got a one in four chance of getting an answer. I think I fucked up history. But then, I’m not from around here am I?” He smiled, showing his teeth much to Thomas’ delight. “You on the other hand have no chance.”

Thomas laughed, not caring about Newt’s teasing while the other teen was happy. “So, after we finish with the principal…” he bit his lip, looking around surreptitiously, “Do you wanna?”

Newt sighed dramatically, “You’re incorrigible, you know,” he too looked around, smiling when he found that he and Thomas were quite alone in the world, “But yes, lets.”

He leaned forward, kissing Thomas not so chastely on the mouth. The burst apart when the door opened again, all hopes of a romantic evening temporarily shelved when they saw who the interloper was.

There at the door, looking uncomfortable and out of place in ordinary clothes and sub-par running boots was Minho.

For a few seconds, all three men stood in a stunned silence, none of them believing what had happened to them. Minho broke the silence first, walking forward, a grin coming to his face with each step, “Newt? Thomas?” he stopped just short of them, “What are you two shanks doing here?”

This broke Newt and Thomas out of their trance, both of them walking forward, grabbing Minho by the shoulders and pulling him into a hug. They stayed silent for a few more seconds, Thomas inhaling deeply through his nose to confirm that Minho wasn’t some sort of shared mirage. He smiled into the other boy’s shoulder, eventually looking him in the eye, laughing slightly when he saw that Minho seemed to be just as stunned as he and Newt.

“Going to school, hopefully.” Newt was the first to speak, his quick wit naturally the first to return to him. “I can’t believe you’re here!” The British boy smiled, looking between Thomas and Newt with confused joy.

“I wasn’t originally,” they all took a step backwards, falling into the familiar circular configuration they had often adopted during their days together, “my family was in New York, we moved here at the last minute. Something about career opportunities, I don’t remember.” He laughed for a second, stopping when a frown came to his face. “How did you two end up together? Do both of your families live here?”

Newt and Thomas looked at each other, Newt shrugging and gesturing for Thomas to take the lead on this one. The brunet took a deep breath, shrugging, “You were the first to go, so you were away before it happened, but, um, Newt and I are together. Like, romantically, you know, in love, one might say. If you were being particularly raunchy, you might even say getting down-”

Newt raised his hand to Thomas’ chest, silencing him, and opening his own mouth. “We’re together. And I didn’t have anyone left, so it seemed like the best solution.” He smiled.

Minho took a moment to process the news, a smile eventually coming to his face, “Well I’m glad that you shuck faces have finally figured it out.” She hugged the two of them again, “seriously it was really painful watching you exchanging longing glances.” He smiled again, “Congratulations.”

Thomas looked down, suddenly blushing at the small accolade, as though Minho was giving the best man’s speech at their wedding. He blamed the excess emotions from having to struggle through seven exams in seven hours, though if he was to be honest, he would have to say he didn’t blame it on anything.

It was good to feel things again.

They weren’t able to speak any further, the Principal opening the door and ushering them inside.

He seemed to be a friendly enough man, a smile on his face as he gestured for them to sit at his desk. He placed three files on the table, looking through them each briefly before returning his gaze to the three youths, a wide smile upon his face.

“Well, first off, I’m pleased to say that you’ll all be entering the 10th grade here at Beacon Hill’s High. I brought you in here to talk about your academic choices. I understand that you all know each other, so I thought it might be nice for you to be able to discuss your options together.”

He handed each of them their files. Thomas opened his, finding that the only subject he had miserably failed was art. Apparently choosing the most ridiculous option was a viable way of passing History, something he would keep in mind later in the term. He grinned at Newt, flashing his teeth and trying to get a peek of Newt’s file.

The russet haired boy winked at him, grinning in turn, “I don’t think I’ll be doing History, but apparently my Maths was AP level.”

Thomas looked back at his file, smiling when he saw that he was going to be there too. He leaned around Newt to look at Minho, very pleased when he saw Minho nodding smugly. “Looks like we all are.” He looked up at the principal with a curious look, “Are these our only options? What else do we have to do?” His mind raced with possibilities, in shock at all of the choices that were now available to him, now that he didn’t have to focus on staying alive until the next near-death experience.

The principal shook his head, “No, the tests you took today are the only ones that you needed aptitude tests for to determine if you would be at the level of other students. We offer a whole range of subjects and extracurricular opportunities for our students.” His phone buzzed, and he looked at it, groaning at it, “And now I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Janice, my assistant can give you a full list of the subjects and the activities you can sign up for.”

The three boys stood up, leaving the office with much lighter hearts than they had started with. Thomas hooked his arm around Newt’s waist, picking up both of their information packets from Janice. The three friends, finally reunited, walked through the still empty halls of Beacon Hill’s High.

“I’m glad that you’re here Minho,” Thomas smiled as Newt began to talk, “Maybe there’ll be someone who can catch up to me during P.E. now.” He laughed, leaning against Thomas and looking at him, “When did Noah say the bus came?”

Thomas groaned trying to remember, feeling like his entire brain had been sucked out of his skull over the course of the day. “You know, I can’t actually remember for the life of me, like 4, maybe?”

Minho shook his head, walking up to an idling, SUV, “No way, if you think I’m letting you guys go, not so soon after I found you both again.” He dragged them towards the car, smiling as he opened the back door, “You gotta tell me everything you’ve done, I’ll get my dad to square it with yours, he can come over for dinner, but until then, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

He jumped into the back seat.

“You shanks coming, or not?”

Thomas and Newt followed him into the car.


	8. Going over familiar trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Thomas is settled into Beacon Hills, it must be the end of all his problems.
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, so, I feel like some of you may have noticed that the updates are slowing down. This is just because I'm at a very busy period in my life right now, hopefully updates will be a little bit faster after Easter. While I do have stuff written in advance, I prefer to wait to post it until I've got a few chapters ahead of me, just for securities sake.
> 
> Hope you enjoy

Newt loved Minho’s House. Despite its modernity, and the moving boxes still littered around the many rooms, it felt lived in, the smell of lasagne emanating from the kitchen. Minho’s dad hadn’t minded the unexpected house guests, the only sign that he was surprised by the two extra bodies in his back seat being a subtle raising of his eyebrows.

It seemed that Minho’s mother was much the same, giving Thomas and Newt polite smiles as she left the kitchen, still drying her hands on a towel. She looked at them curiously, looking at Minho as she talked, “I knew you said that you were going to make friends, dear, but I wasn’t expecting you to start so soon.” She extended her hand to Thomas first, “My name’s Noshiko, I’m Minho’s mother, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Thomas stayed silent, looking like a deer in headlights, so Newt took the lead, “Thank you for welcoming us into your home, it’s beautiful.” He shoved Thomas, waiting for his love to respond.

Eventually he did, “Yeah, thank you, it’s beautiful.”

“Did you meet each other at the aptitude tests?” she walked back towards the kitchen, gesturing for the three boys to follow her, “I can’t believe that Minho managed to sit still for all seven of them, he’s a ball of energy when you get to know him.”

Newt cleared his throat, “Um, actually, we knew him, from, well, from before.”

Noshiko turned to him, her expression becoming unbearably sad. “Oh,” she walked forward, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to nod before he actually touched his shoulder, “I’m sorry that such pain came to you,” she looked at Thomas, “that it came to you both.” She walked over to the oven, peering in, “I think this still needs a bit more time, why don’t you three go upstairs and catch up, and I’ll call you down when it’s ready?”

Minho nodded eagerly, practically dragging Thomas and Newt upstairs, eagerly showing them his room when they reached it.

“Pretty awesome, right?” He showed off his bed and the posters around it, “There place in New York only had two bedrooms, so I had to share with my sister, but now that we’re here there’s way more room.” He grinned, waiting for their response.

Newt smiled and nodded, stepping away from Thomas slightly to examine the room, examining one of the posters with fascination. “What’s a Fall Out Boy?”

“It’s a band, they’re pretty cool.” He smiled, walking over to them Newt, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I ended catching up on a lot of music that I missed on the drive over. It was insanely long, so I managed to fit a lot in.” Newt kept on examining the room while Minho turned to Thomas, both of them probably engaging in the meaningful stares they had been famous for in The Maze.

He didn’t mind, he knew that Thomas had missed his closest friend dearly, and he’d never try to interrupt that. Instead he focussed on all of the little details of the room, smiling at how Minho had managed to infuse the room with his personality. Eventually he collapsed on the bed, smiling as he felt Thomas sit next to him.

“It’s pretty awesome Min,” he laughed, and smiled as he felt Thomas gaze flitter over to him, “I still can’t believe that you ended up in Beacon Hills. With parents who remember your name properly too.”

Minho sat next to him, hauling him into a sitting position, “Well, they tried the old one, but they gave up after I pitched a fit one too many times. But with the moving, it’s literally like one minute we were planning everything to be in New York, and then, just like magic, we were moving here.”

Newt sighed as he felt Thomas stiffen next to him, some habits not yet broken, “It’s alright love, not everything is a government conspiracy you know.” He kissed him on the cheek, smiling as he felt his paramour relax slightly. “Right Min?”

Their friend nodded and smiled, “Dad got tenure here, and a pay rise, and the housing market is better, or something like that. It’s cool, and it has you two, so it’s great.”

Newt kissed Thomas on the cheek again, “See, it’s fine.” Thomas finally smiled, nodding at him. Newt turned back to Minho, “So-”

They were interrupted by the sound of Noshiko calling that dinner was ready, Minho shrugging and leading them out of the room, down the stairs and into the dining room. Newt smiled as Thomas’ arm wrapped around his waist in a way he was becoming accustomed to.

Maybe, after a few initial missteps, it would be possible to live a normal life after all.

They were met in the dining room by Noshiko, Minho’s father, and a young girl of about Minho’s age. All three seemed determined to act as normally as possibly, the girl smiling shyly at Newt. Noshiko smiled at them, taking her seat at the table now that everyone had arrived to dinner.

“It’s just lasagne and salad tonight, I wasn’t expecting company. There should be enough for seconds though, or I can make up a package for you to take home if you’d like.”

Again, Newt was forced to be the one who talked, “Thank you,” he pulled Thomas’ chair out, kissing the brunet on the side of his head as he sat down, “We’re sorry for the inconvenience.”

The girl finally spoke up, smiling as she sat down, “Don’t be silly, this is the most fun we’ve had in months. Trying to get any information out of Minho is like trying to pull teeth. What was it like? In the maze?”

“Kira!” Minho’s father spoke for the first time, glaring at her even as he took a bite of a particularly large leaf of salad, “Our guests have only been here for less than an hour, please save the haranguing until after we’ve finished dinner.” He turned to Newt, shrugging, “I apologise, it appears that both of my children were blessed with insatiable curiosity. The mark of a brilliant mind, but unfortunately, not the best conversationalist.”

Thomas cleared his throat, shaking his head at the apology, “It’s fine, I mean, they aren’t the best memories, but there’s no harm in asking.” He smiled as Noshiko passed the lasagne to him, cutting a portion for himself and for Newt. Even now, after all their time together, Newt’s heart began to race a little as Thomas winked at him.

Newt began shovelling salad on his plate, smiling at Minho’s father, “Minho said you were a teacher, would you say that’s one of your own attributes?” he hooked a piece of Spanish Onion upon his fork, smiling as he began to eat.

“I would never claim to have a brilliant mind,” Minho’s father put his cutlery down, smiling between his two children, “rather I find myself in a position to nurture those who might be in possession of one. May I ask you a question Newt?”

Newt nodded.

“I was in contact with the principal earlier today, he gleefully informed me that Minho and Thomas would be taking history in my class, however you don’t seem to have made the cut. It seems strange to me that Thomas and Minho might be able to take it when they have the same disadvantages as you. Do you not have an interest in the study of the past?”

Newt tensed, only relaxing when he felt Thomas’ hand drop from the table to next to his thigh. He took hold of Thomas’ hand, interlocking their fingers before he spoke. “I didn’t need it in the maze, and from my admittedly brief experience of an organised classroom environment, it doesn’t seem to include anything that I couldn’t get from somewhere else. No offense to your teaching, of course.”

Mr. Yukimura raised his hands in defeat, smiling, “I apologise if my question caused any offence, I merely wanted to understand one of the young men who so deeply influenced my son during his time away.”

Newt nodded, beginning to eat his lasagne again.

At least he’d always have his wits.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, Mr. Yukimura standing up. “I believe that’s your father Thomas. I’ll only be a moment, please, continue eating.”

It was only a few more seconds before Noah walked into the dining room, still wearing his Sheriff’s uniform. He smiled, taking a seat next to Thomas, ruffling Newt’s hair as he passed him.

The rest of the evening after that passed in an easy haze. Aside from a few moments when Kira poked at the past, everything felt light and easy. The time raced past until it was time for Newt and Thomas to be taken home.

Thomas was more at ease in the car than Newt, falling asleep against Newt’s chest almost immediately after sitting down. Newt sighed in contentment, meeting Noah’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Do you think that we’ll be okay?”

Noah chuckled, “I think that you are both very gifted young men. If you could survive being chased around by mechanical nightmares in a maze, I’m sure you’ll be able to survive a few years of High School.” He slowed down as they approached the house, stopping in the driveway before getting out of the car, opening Thomas’ side door and shaking his son awake, “C’mon, lets get you two into bed, you’ve had a long day, you must be exhausted.” He smiled, and half carried Thomas inside.

Newt nodded, helping Thomas upstairs onto the bed before falling next to him, asleep before his head had even hit the pillow.

* * *

The next few weeks after the aptitude testing were the happiest of Newt’s life. He, Thomas and Minho spent most of their days outside, exploring the extensive preserve, with the occasional rainy day spent in Minho’s room, catching up on all of the pop culture that they had missed.

Newt had managed to block out Thomas’ and Minho’s groans long enough to decide that Pride and Prejudice was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

But eventually, as all things must, their holidays came to an end, and they were once again standing before the front doors.

This time, they were only three students among a crowd of hundreds, the trepidation in their eyes helping them to blend in rather than stand out.

Newt turned ever so slightly to look at Thomas, the boy looking as conflicted as Newt felt. He could see the emotions flickering across the other boy’s face, frustration from either being stuck at school or not being to remember being there before being chief mong them. He smiled at Tommy, being the one to wrap his arm around Tommy’s waist for once. “Cheer up Tommy, it might not happen.”

Thomas smiled at him, kissing him gently on the temple before walking up the stairs and towards the front doors. As stupid as it might have sounded, that gave Newt all of the courage he needed to continue into the maze of buildings.

Of course not all things were going to run perfectly, after picking up their schedules, Newt found to his horror that his very first class in high school would be Art, and that Thomas’ would be in History. He shuddered at the thought of being in a class without Minho and Thomas, knowing that while he could stand the separation, it would probably be a painful experience.

He walked towards the classroom, holding his arms around his waist as he walked, being careful not to bump into any of the students rushing past him. At least The Glade had an order to it, not a hierarchy so to speak, but at least a way in which things were done. Here was barely contained chaos, it had only been a few minutes and already it wore at him.

Eventually, he reached the room, waiting outside the door, resistant to the thought of being told what to do, of having to submit the quiet authority and respect he had earnt while he was with the Gladers. Eventually the hall quietened enough for him to know that he was in danger of being declared missing, and so he walked in.

It wasn’t, strictly speaking, what Newt had expected of a classroom. There were two semicircles of 6 stools and easels, all with a view of a small table set in the centre of the classroom. On the other side of the table was the teacher’s desk. A young-ish woman sat there, her head turning to face Newt as he entered the room. She smiled briefly as he hung back by the door.

“This is the Junior art class,” she smiled again when he still hung by the door, “You look lost, are you sure you’re meant to be here?”

Newt nodded, taking a deep breath, and stepping inside the room. “My name’s Newt, I was told to come to this class?”

The teacher nodded, gesturing for him to take the only vacant seat in the class, next to the red-head who he had seen in the clothing shop shortly before he had collapsed. “Would you like to introduce yourself to the class, Newt?”

He shook his head, ducking his head when the teacher looked at him sadly, and trying to avoid the curious stares of his fellow classmates. Eventually, the teacher exhaled, standing up, revealing her truly voluminous hippie robe, and began to address the class.

“Today we’ll be working with charcoal. Now, I know this is an unfamiliar tool for many of you, as it’s not on the art curriculum in this state at High School. Right now, I don’t want you to show perfect technique, I just want to see you get used to working with it.”

She returned to her desk briefly, coming back to just behind the table with a box filled with tiny scraps of paper. “Now, to add some spontaneity to your lives, I’ve decided that your subject for each week will be randomly selected by one of the class. Who wants to go first?”

She walked in front of Newt, holding out the little box to him. “Newt?” She smiled at him, “Why don’t you go first?”

Newt closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he reached for the closest piece of paper and pulled it free from the box. He unwrinkled it, and tried not to stutter as he talked, “An arrangement of flowers.”

The teacher took the box and the piece of paper away from him, pulling a vase of flowers from the shelf and smiling as she returned to her desk, sitting down with a smile. “See what you can do.”

Newt felt himself freeze as the rest of the class took up their charcoal sticks, each of them looking at the flowers for a moment before they began their preliminary studies. His breaths became shallower, and his hands curled into claws as he realised just how out of place everything seemed.

“Just breathe,” Newt turned, the red-headed girl smiling at him as she paused in her own drawing to talk to him properly, “It’s not nearly as bad as you think it is. Just pick up the charcoal, make a line, and you can throw out the page if it doesn’t work. It’s easier than it seems, trust me.”

Newt nodded and smiled shakily, picking up the piece of charcoal, deciding to go for the vase first.

He made the first line.

He hated the first line,

He started again.

Slowly, he began to get into the hang of things, pretending that he was drawing a plan for the runners to follow, that the stalks of the roses were paths, that the petals were the directions in which the walls were changing. He could do this, he could be normal, and fine.

And then Minho came bursting into the classroom, looking between Newt and the teacher frantically. After a few seconds of frantic panting, he pointed at Newt while talking to the teacher.

“Newt needs. We need Newt. It’s an emergency!”

Most of the class were shocked into silence, only Newt responding to him. He stood, walking towards the door, hands out placatingly. “Minho, what?”

“It’s Thomas.”

Newt sprinted out of the room not caring if the teacher called after him, following Minho as best he could through the ground floor corridors. Just as he thought that there would be nothing he could do before Thomas surely succumbed to whatever peril faced him, they reached the boy’s bathroom. Minho pulled him through the maze of lockers, until they reached the showers, and Newt could see Thomas gasping under the spray, Scott standing before him.

“Tommy,” Newt ran forward, without Minho this time, crouching in front of his love, his hands outstretched, “Love, what happened?”

Thomas said nothing, panting heavily as he looked at Newt. He shook his head.

They stayed silent for a few moments before Thomas launched himself forward, holding onto Newt with all of the strength he could muster. While he was initially surprised, Newt didn’t mind, finding himself melting into Thomas’ touch. Once again, he tried to find the reason for this sudden change in his love’s behaviour.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?”

Again, Thomas shook his head, clinging onto Newt’s torso and whimpering occasionally. Newt could feel that he wasn’t going to get an answer from Thomas, and so he looked up at Scott and Minho.

“What happened?” He kissed the top of Thomas’ forehead while he waited for one of them to respond, one of his hands pulling Thomas’ torso closer to his. He could feel Thomas trembling underneath his hands, and he knew it had nothing to do with the cold water.

Eventually Scott replied.

“We were in history and Mr. Yukimura asked him to read, and then, I don’t know, he just started having a panic attack.”

Newt turned back to Thomas, stroking at his face to try to draw his attention.

“Is that all that happened love?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Newt, I couldn’t read. I couldn’t read.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is where we really start to get into season 3B, but, because I don't want to bore the Teen Wolf fans who are reading this, I am going to be messing with the timeline a bit, and changing a few details as to who does what and when. I'm also going to try to make it accessible for the non-Teen Wolf Fans who just happened to stumble on this work, and would like to see how it ends without needing to watch 3 season's worth of content.
> 
> I really hope you've enjoyed, and I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's left a comment or a Kudos. I'm really glad that you've enjoyed and interacted with my work.
> 
> Until Next Time


	9. Oh lover, look at how far we've come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas recovers from not being able to read. Newt encounters his least favourite parts of the American school system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm actually really curious, I wondering how many of you are Maze Runner Fans, and how many of you are Teen Wolf fans (and how many of you are both). So far I think most of the people who have commented have been Maze Runner fans, and I'm wondering just how you're going with the Teen Wolf elements of the work.

Newt spent the rest of the day at Thomas’ side, both of them clinging to each other as they walked to Maths.

If anyone noticed that Thomas was still dripping water onto the classroom floor, they didn’t say anything. As far as Newt could tell, Thomas wasn’t paying attention, the brunet’s grip on his waist occasionally tightening when his breathing heightened. Ultimately it wouldn’t matter, he and Newt had figured out how to differentiate between The Maze and The Scorch, the maths the only reprieve from the constant anticipation which had characterised the WCKD facility.

Newt still took notes, just in case, shaking his head at the teacher when he was called up to write on the board. After facing the certainty of a long, lingering death, the idea of a teacher having a grudge against him was surprisingly low on his list of priorities.

By the time that their break between the second and third class rolled around, both Newt and Thomas were getting desperate to see the outside world again. They used the fifteen-minute break to escape outside, Thomas regaining control of himself enough to be able to climb onto the roof, Newt smiling when he saw his paramour’s characteristic small smile for the first time since the showers.

He hauled himself up, sitting next to Thomas. He looked out at the horizon, limitless for the first time in his life as far as he could remember. It was beautiful. He looked back at Thomas, trying not to let the concern show on his face at the other teen’s recent outburst.

He must have failed in some way or another, Thomas turning to look at him with an exasperated sigh.

“You know, I though after the Maze, things were supposed to get back to normal.” Thomas traced his fingers along the corrugated metal, going over the highs and the valleys slowly, as though they held the secrets to the universe, instead of just congregating bacteria. “But instead, I don’t know, it just feels like we’re in another test. Just like going from The Maze to The Scorch. You know?”

Newt nodded, leaning forward and resting his hand on Thomas’ knee. He began to rub circles with his thumb, smiling when Thomas grabbed his hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles softly. “I know, but at least we aren’t being chased by a bunch of cranks, or WCKD security guards.”

Thomas raised his eyes, still continuing to kiss at Newt’s hand before he spoke, “I guess, but I feel like I’m just waiting for he other shoe to drop. Especially after this morning.” He leant forward, moving slightly to rest his head on Newt’s lap. “And I don’t want to run, but I’m not sure that I can stand to leave.”

Newt used his free hand to card through Thomas’ thick hair, closing his eyes to enjoy the sun on his face. He smiled at the warmth, now that he knew what the real thing felt like, it seemed almost impossible that he’d fallen for the weak imitation in The Maze. It was one of the few things that he could honestly tell was real in his more uncertain moments, a small comfort in his confusing life as of late.

The bell rang, signalling for them to get off of the roof, both of them groaning, even as they hastened to get back into the school building, not particularly wanting a detention quite yet.

By the time they reached the hallway that led to their chemistry class, the crowd was thinning out. Now that Thomas was dry, and looked like he was going to be fine for at least the next class, Newt felt much calmer, his heart slowing down from somewhere approaching a heart attack to just above the healthy upper limit for a boy his age. A mantra of ‘just keep going’ was on loop in his head.

Still better than being a crank.

They walked into the room, the tall thin teacher turning to them with a sneer, adjusting his glasses as they paused by the entrance of the room.

“Ah, Mr Stilinski, you know, for the entire time that you were away, my classroom was quiet, orderly, free of interruptions and general chaos.” He walked forward, Newt feeling Thomas move in front of him, always the protector now. Under normal circumstances, he would have wanted to avert his eyes, hating the confrontation now that it wasn’t necessary to survive.

But these weren’t normal circumstances, so he did his best to stare defiantly at the teacher.

“If you think that disappearing mysteriously will result in any special treatment in my class, you are mistaken. The same goes for your friend too. Now take your seats, and don’t interrupt my class.”

They walked together to the only free desk, right in front of the teacher’s desk. He smiled at them menacingly, before walking to his blackboard, and beginning to write on the board.

“Today we’ll be beginning an entire term of organic chemistry. Now,” he paused and looked Newt directly in the eyes, condescension clear in his eyes, “If any of you find this challenging, I’ll be happy to show you where the drop out forms are.”

Newt couldn’t help it, he smiled. If this wanker thought that he was going to be intimidated by classifying a few hydrocarbons, then he had another thing coming. It seemed to freak the teacher out, though a quick glance at Thomas suggested that the latter’s similarly manic smile might have been the key contributor to that.

“Carbon is a wonderful element, truly one of the most important, if not the most important, elements in the entire universe. And today, you lucky few who didn’t flunk at a sophomore level, get to learn its most basic of properties.”

He drew a C on the board, Newt internally groaning as he though of how boring this was going to be. He knew that Thomas felt the same, he could feel him tensing up next to him, like him probably trying to find a way to get just short enough of full marks on tests so as to avoid being called a cheat.

It was just common knowledge when he’d gotten to the city, after all, if you were incapable of understanding the valence of carbon, how the fuck were you supposed to try to find a chemical solution to the flare?

He could remember hours, in between rescuing kids, of pouring over the scientific papers which had been in Mary’s collection, trying to understand where they had gone wrong, not letting anyone know, not even Tommy, that he feared the death which had been creeping up on him.

So yeah, this course wasn’t going to be any sort of bother. He still took some notes, to avoid the ire of the arsehole masquerading as a teacher.

The man in question seemed to be surprised at Newt and Thomas’ relative quiet. It made Newt just a little curious to know who Thomas had been before the wipe. He knew that sometimes he felt a little bit restless when they were making plans in The Maze, but how disruptive could he be? Right now, the only sign that he was bored was his hand slowly creeping up from Newt’s knee. Eventually, after Harris had completely failed to convey the rules of Alkane, Alkene, and Alkyne chemical formulas to the class, and Thomas’ hand was almost three quarters of the way up his thigh, he dropped his pen and glared at Thomas.

He received only a wry smile in return, Thomas’ hand stilling but not moving. He picked up his pencil, writing along the edge of the page of his notebook so Newt could see:

_I’ve changed my mind about the whole staying in school thing._

Newt couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. He winced as Mr Harris turned to face him, letting his arm drop to his side as he walked towards Newt, a frown on his face.

“Mr Wilcox,” he began with a condescending tone, ignoring how Newt tensed when he heard a name which was foreign to him except for a few records, “would you care to tell me what’s so funny? Or, alternately, what the formula for an unsubstituted Alkene? Unless you want a detention this afternoon of course.”

Newt smirked, smiling as he began to talk, “Assuming that the alkene only has one double bond, and the structure isn’t cyclic, for every Carbon there’ll be two Hydrogens.” His smile widened as he saw Mr. Harris pause, obviously confused. “So CnH2n.”

The teacher rolled his eyes, returning to the board and writing a few problems on it. “I’ve spoken enough today, it’s time to see that you’ve actually understood. Mr Stilinski, why don’t you draw out cyclohexene, with its hydrogens, and” he surveyed the classroom. “Jackson, why don’t you show us what the chemical formula of this molecule is?”

Newt rolled his eyes at the disparity of the difficulty of the questions, squeezing Thomas’ hand as the brunet got out of his seat and walked up to the board, drawing out the structure in nearly every conceivable form before Jackson had even raised his chalk to the board.

He wasn’t going to let this class get the better of him, no way.

Thomas drew several incarnations of the stupid, simple molecule, knowing that he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Much as he’d accepted that he was going to live without his memories for a long time, he desperately what he’d done to deserve this.

After drawing out the structure three times, he put the chalk down and waited by the board, watching the other boy, Jackson, as he struggled with writing the formula of a fully drawn out ethene molecule. Newt had just said the formula for it. It couldn’t possibly be that hard for anyone who had passed the previous year’s class.

Jackson turned to glare at him, smirking after a few seconds of what appeared to be careful appraisal. “You know, going missing for a year and a half doesn’t give you any freebies you know.”

Thomas looked at him, deciding that Chemistry was his least favourite class by far, just based on this. “If you think I need a freebie, then you don’t me well enough.” He turned away from the board, smiling at Newt as he returned to his chair, trailing his hand along Newt’s back as he took his seat.

“I think that this is going to be a bludge course, don’t you?” Newt murmured into his ear, smiling as Mr. Harris walked over to Jackson, clearly frustrated with the other student’s inability to answer a question that the entire class had been focussing upon for that lesson. “Like, I think the recommended 3 hours of study time is a bit of a wash don’t you?”

Thomas nodded, turning and kissing Newt on the temple quickly, just managing to avoid Mr. Harris’s gaze as the man turned around, scowling at the rest of the class. “Seeing as you’ve managed to absorb absolutely nothing from this class, you’re going to be reading your entire chemistry textbook tonight, every single one of you.” He walked forward, trying to be threatening, but his general skinny frame, and a smudge on his glasses prevented that. “There will be a forty-five minute pop-quiz for you tomorrow, which will cover all of it if you were thinking of not doing your homework.”

The bell rang, and Newt rushed with Tommy to get to their English class.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur, none of the classes overly challenging, not even P.E., but none of them sticking in Thomas’ mind.

It didn’t stop him from groaning in relief when he collapsed onto the bed, his vertebrae decompressing after a full day of carrying heavy books on his back.

He smiled as Newt collapsed next to him, the russet haired boy’s eyes closed, and his breathing evened out. “Don’t fall asleep babe,” Thomas mumbled sleepily, “You won’t sleep tonight if you do now.”

Newt shrugged, “Maybe I don’t want to sleep tonight,” he cracked an eye open, Thomas’ heart skipping a beat as Newt looked him dead in the eye with a look that he’d only seen in select situations after they’d been reunited by Doctor Rockatansky. “What do you say? It’s a New Moon tonight, the fireflies will be out.”

Thomas laughed, “Why is it that everyone thinks the Brits are so demure? You’re all sex maniacs.” He pulled Newt towards him, kissing the top of his head, “So, nap now, then dinner, then see what the forest will be like?”

Newt smiled, nodding against Thomas’ chest before he fell asleep.

Thomas smiled, carding his hands through Newt’s hair, staring at the ceiling. Despite his teasing in Chemistry, he was relieved by the return of structure to his life. Half of the reason that the scorch had been so exhausting was that he had no idea of what was going to happen.

The other half had been the fear of losing Newt.

Now that everything was so neat, and he knew that Newt would make it through high school at the very least, he didn’t have to worry so much.

He let himself fall asleep, the smile still on his face.

* * *

Dinner was a mostly drama free affair. For possibly the first time while they shared the same roof, there wasn’t even a hint of tension between Thomas and his father. They even talked properly about everything that had happened at school, with the breakdown being ever so slightly underplayed.

Even getting outside hadn’t been too difficult.

“We’re planning on going out for a walk actually dad.”

“Thomas, there are coyotes around at night.” He crossed his arms, fixing them with a glare.

“We’ve seen worse, we’ll be fine,” Newt chimed in, trying his best to smile charmingly, “And if we think it’s getting too hairy, we’ll come back straight away.”

Noah sighed, clearly not wanting to start another fight. “Ok but take your phone so I can call you if you need a lift. And be back by midnight, okay?” He smiled, chuckling quietly to himself for a little bit before addressing them again, “I have a whole sheriff’s department at my disposal, and they all have embarrassing baby stories about you that they can tell Newt.”

Newt resisted the urge to chuckle, looking at Thomas who had gone pale as a sheet, “You wouldn’t,” he shook his head, “You couldn’t.” he continued to stutter, but no further words came out.

Noah laughed again, “I will, be back by midnight, okay?” he smiled in a suspiciously beatific manner.

Thomas and Newt nodded. The latter took the former by the hand, leading him to the back door, releasing a breath when they finally got out into the cold night air.

“We’ll definitely be back by midnight, right?” Thomas looked at Newt nervously, “Like, it’s seven thirty now, we’ve got plenty of time, yeah?” He looked around, as though he was being followed by angry grievers, or alternately sheriff’s deputies armed with baseball bats.

“Tommy, you don’t even remember any of these embarrassing stories, why are you worried?”

“Look, as far as I’m concerned I was a sain during my childhood, and I don’t need anyone telling me otherwise, okay?” He scrunched up his face, beginning to laugh when Newt deftly snuck a kiss to his mouth. “Okay, babe, I get your point. Come on, let’s go.”

He took the lead, as he tended to do, taking Newts hand and wandering into the woods.

They walked into the forest, wandering for about an hour, eventually making their way into a grove filled with fireflies. Newt stood, transfixed as a few landed on Thomas’ head, making a crown. He raised his hands and smiled in a rare display of wonder, laughing as more landed upon his finger-tips. After a few seconds, he turned to Newt, taking the russet haired boy’s breath away. “Newt, babe, isn’t this the most magical thing that you’ve ever seen?” he spun around before walking forward.

Newt’s breath hitched in his throat. He closed his eyes trying to come up with a more intelligent response, but Thomas’ hand on his upper arm ruined that. He opened his eyes again, feeling his mouth drop open before Thomas leaned in and kissed him.

The first time that he had kissed Thomas, he had been dying and ready to go. A knife was in his chest, and there was nothing to lose. It had not been gentle, or sweet, and he had collapsed before either of them had time to respond to it. Now he could barely remember it, so black had the edges around his vision been.

The second time, Thomas had kissed him while they were both hooked up to more wires and machines than they could count. It had been gentle, and sweet, but the pain that both of them were feeling had made it shorter than either of them would have liked. That and the nurses had been pretty quick to banish Thomas back to his room.

There had been countless times after that, each of them unique in their passion, and all of them in the spirit of love.

But none had felt so perfect, so sweet, so predestined as this one. Thomas could feel the fireflies landing on his hair, but more important to him was the feeling of Thomas’ hands on his back. There was wind pushing against his back, but that was nothing in comparison to the feeling of Thomas pressed up against him, the warmth detracting making him feel content in standing in the cold.

Eventually they both resurfaced for air, Thomas leaning against him and smiling at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay when I’m with you, Tommy,” he smiled, leaning in to resume the kiss, whispering against Thomas’ cheek, “I love you so much, the way you worry, and the way you always check out for me, but tonight, let go okay?”

Thomas nodded, kissing Newt again, bringing his hand up to Newt’s hair and walking him backwards towards a wide stump that was in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by the fireflies that had so entranced them.

They weren’t back by midnight.


	10. Wild Child, So Beautiful, So Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For every action there is a consequence, Newt and Thomas are no exception to this rule.

There was a man standing before the Nemeton, one who was observing the two youths now sleeping on its wide trunk, blissfully unaware of their privacy being intruded upon.

To say that Peter Hale was confused would be an understatement. So confused was he to see the two bodies covered only by a makeshift blanket of discarded clothes, that he wasn’t even trying to move towards either one of them in his usual intimidating way. Instead he just stood there, a ridiculous puzzled expression upon his face until he was joined by his nephew.

“Peter, what are you doing here?” Derek walked forward, grabbing at Peter’s arm before he too turned to look at the two teens on the Nemeton. “Oh.” He dropped Peter’s arm, also befuddled.

It was strange to see someone who had be absent from his life for eighteen months, especially when that person had left a practical child, who, despite their knowledge of the supernatural, had very little experience or understanding of the world. Now he was practically a different person, an adult with the scars to testify to it.

Stiles, at least as Derek had known him, had melted away, replaced by the stranger, Thomas.

“Do they know that they’re sleeping on the container of unspeakable magical power?” Derek turned to look at his uncle, purposefully averting his gaze from the youths in a moment that was meant to be private, now intruded upon.

“You shouldn’t be out in the woods Peter, people might think that you’re up to something.”

Peter snorted, walking forwards shaking off Derek’s hand when he tried to stop him, “You know, I offered to bite Stiles once,” he stood by Thomas’ head, one had just above the still sleeping teen’s head, “Before the first time you killed me,” he pulled his hand away moving towards Newt, “I wonder what might have changed if I had.”

“Whatever you’re doing, stop.” Derek raised an eyebrow, grabbing at Peter’s arm and leading him away from the trunk.

“Why are you always so worried, nephew of mine, do you really think that I want to spill anymore blood at this place of all of the places? I’m just curious as to what he’s doing here. It’s not exactly the easiest place to find. You might even say that it requires supernatural assistance.”

Derek looked back at the sleeping duo, a frown coming to his face as he reflected on his Uncle.

“So, I’m just asking, what are they doing here? Aside from the obvious.” Peter gestured at them just as Thomas readjusted Newt in his arms.

Derek pulled Peter away from the Nemeton to behind the tree cover, “Peter, if this is some of your bullshit and you are trying to manipulate me, I won’t hesitate to kill you again.”

“Oh, my dear Nephew, it’s nothing like that, I just wanted to say that I think that our Stiles might have more going on than we first suspected on his arrival.” Peter nodded over at Stiles.

Peter shook Derek’s hand from his arm and stalked off into the night. Derek sighed, following him knowing that it was the only way he’d be able to find any answers.

* * *

Newt woke to the sun on his face, and Thomas’ arms around him. It was not unusual, in fact it had been his normal way of life since he’d first woken up in the hospital. He smiled and opened his eyes to look at Thomas for a moment. It was after a few seconds of this quiet observation that he remembered that they had been given a curfew of midnight, and that judging from the dappled light currently painting Thomas’ skin, they’d missed it by a dramatic margin.

“Shit, Tommy, wake up,” he sat up groggily, wiping at his eyes to clear them of sleep. “It’s morning.”

Thomas sat bolt upright, nearly knocking Newt over in the process. “Shit.”

They scrambled to get their clothes on, both of them ending up with their shirts inside out. They scrambled away from the base of the tree, and began to run back to the house.

They arrived to an exhausted Noah sitting on the front steps. He looked up at them wearily, then stood, and nodded for them to follow him inside.

They ended up congregating around the kitchen island, Noah pouring out three cups of coffee as he spoke. “Now, I was on the verge of calling out an entire squadron to look for you.” He put the pot down, and walked to the fridge for the milk. “I didn’t, because I know that you two are good kids, and you’re still getting used to living inside.” He offered each of them a cup.

Thomas took his and began to speak, “We’re sorry, we fell asleep.”

“I figured as much. But actions, even ones you didn’t mean, have consequences. So, I think it’s only fair that you’re grounded for the rest of the week.”

Newt took a break from sipping at his coffee to look at Noah in confusion. “What’s being grounded?”

“It means that you don’t go out except for school. Nothing at night, no parties or nothing. No going out either, not until I know I can trust you again. Does that sound fair?”

Newt and Thomas nodded in unison, looking at each other in the way that only frequent partners in crime could. They looked back at Noah, suitably shame-faced.

“Okay then.” The sheriff grimaced as he took a sip of his coffee. “oh, and you still have to go to school today, don’t care how much or how little sleep you got out there.”

“Dad!”

“Hey, do the crime, do the time kiddo. Now, I’m going to make pancakes. I found a bottle of mix in the pantry and I think the sink is going to clog if I pour any more bacon grease down it.”

Newt and Thomas shrugged, figuring that they might as well go along with it. Besides the pancakes were delicious, even if it meant that Newt was slightly groggy on the car ride over to Beacon Hills’ High.

* * *

 

The first class of the day was English, Newt and Thomas sitting up the back of the classroom, the latter spending most of the time with his hand resting on Newt’s thigh, distracting the former from his notes on Lady Macbeth’s character arc in the third act of The Scottish Play.

Newt merely smiled, he’d become surprisingly good at googling things, and was ninety percent sure that the essay question for the class hadn’t changed in the past five years. Instead he leaned into the touches, smiling as Thomas became bolder in his hand placement.

When the teacher left to have a coughing fit, he turned to Thomas, biting his lip as the hand travelled ever higher along his thigh. “I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist, love.”

Thomas nuzzled along Newt’s jaw line, all of the other students too preoccupied by their phones, their copies of the play, or their own thoughts to focus upon the two loved-up students at the very back of the class. “What can I say, I love you so much, it’s intoxicating.”

Newt snorted and shoved Thomas away slightly, taking note of various monologues for the rest of the lesson.

The behaviour was the same throughout most of mathematics, although for this class the behaviour was more covert, the touches limited to the occasional brushing of a hand against his forehead to move an errant strand of hair, or a foot hooked around Newt’s ankle, rubbing up along his calf.

For possibly the first time in his life, he was glad to head towards the cafeteria at the end of the class, dragging Thomas along when he tried to pull him outside towards their usual hiding place.

“I need to eat, a man cannot live on pancakes alone.” He smiled breathlessly, laughing at Thomas’ pout, “Not even you, love.”

They entered the room, Newt’s eyes going over the multitude of tables before he found the table of the girl from his art class. He tugged Thomas along to sit at her table, smiling shyly when they got there. “Hi.”

The strawberry blonde smiled at him, gesturing for him and Thomas to sit opposite her. “It’s good to see you when you aren’t having a panic attack.”

Newt smiled, “Technically I wasn’t the one having the panic attack.” He pulled an apple from his backpack, rubbing it on his shirt for a second before taking a bite out of it. “But thanks, I suppose I’ll be seeing you in the last class, right?”

“It’s a Friday, so it should be a breeze, honestly, it’s a miracle that I haven’t ruined more shirts with wet paint fights.” She took a delicate bite out of her own apple, “You should have a lot of fun.”

“A good thing that I didn’t get into history, right Tommy?”

Thomas shook his head, licking his lips slightly, “Any class without you is a tragedy, Newt.”

Newt looked away from Thomas and at the strawberry-blonde, just in time to see her roll her eyes, “It’s always exhausting to see generations of youth, educated in the best that English literature has to offer, ignore the lessons of William Shakespeare, and his wonderful satire.” She winked at Newt, the sparkle in her eyes belying her words. “I think I forgot to say, but my name is Lydia Martin.”

Newt held out a hand, “I’m Newt, but you already knew that. And this is Thomas.”

Lydia smiled, returning to what very little was left of her apple before she looked up at the entrance of Jackson into the cafeteria.

Newt followed her gaze, frowning as he felt Thomas’ arms tighten around him. “What’s wrong, love?” He shifted slightly, only to find that Thomas’ grip on him was immovable. “Love, you’re cutting off my circulation a little bit here.”

He looked at Thomas, his paramour’s eyes clearing for the first time since their interlude at the grove of fireflies. His hold loosened, going from constricting to comforting in a matter of milliseconds. “Sorry darling.” He looked back at Jackson, “he’s just a dickhead from chemistry.”

Lydia laughed slightly, “That’s one way of putting it.” She wiped her hands on a paper napkin, “We used to date, and I might have used those exact words complaining to my best friend when we… stopped.” She smiled sadly, “he became a bit of a monster, I suppose, in a way. Anyway, there’s no need to dwell on the sad things, it’ll dispirit you right before we have gym class.”

Newt snorted, not completely missing how Thomas’ hold on him began to tighten once again, “The coach seems like someone who was kicked out of the army for being too enthusiastic about being in the army.” He finished his apple, disentangling himself from Thomas’ grip just enough to through it at the nearest trash receptacle. He kissed Thomas on the cheek as he leaned back. “But then, I’m not sure if he can do much harm to us after what we’ve seen.”

“I would generally say that his bark is worse than his bite.” She sighed as the bell rang, “Oh parting is such sweet sorrow.” She stood, gesturing for Newt and Thomas to follow her as she powered out of the cafeteria.

* * *

The gymnasium was set up differently to how Newt had expected, the lights off in all but one of the corners of the room. Against the back wall, there was a great structure erected, reaching all of the way to the beams of the roof.

It took Newt’s breath away, but not for the reasons that one might have thought. There was no doubt that it was a climbing wall, even though to Newt’s limited knowledge of the world, he’d never seen one before. Even though the climbing structure bore very little resemblance to the crumbling walls which had been in the maze, there were still enough similarities for Newt to feel himself being dragged back to a time before the city, before the scorch, before Thomas even, to when he had felt so alone, and so scared.

_It had been such a beautiful day, the sun shining down upon him._

_Such a beautiful day to serve as his last one of his life._

_No one had questioned him when he had walked into The Maze, after all, he was the Keeper of the Runners, being in The Maze was his business._

_It had taken a few hours of walking to find the perfect wall, one with enough vines for him to climb to the top, while still being tall enough for him to be sure that the fall wouldn’t be survivable._

Newt snapped out of his trance as Thomas pushed him forward towards the structure ever so slightly. He took hold of Thomas’ hand, shaking his head and trying to move towards the doors back to the change-room. “Tommy, I can’t. Please. Tommy, Please.”

Thomas shook his head, pulling Newt uncomfortably close to him again, a concerned grimace upon his face, “What’s wrong, babe?” he brought a hand up to his neck, stroking against the hairs, making Newt shiver ever so slightly. “It’s okay, okay?” He started to walk forwards slightly, dragging Newt along with him, “Just follow me and before you know it, we’ll be at lunch, okay?” He nodded again, bringing them to the front of the group that had gathered before it.

The coach was there with his whistle, clearly eager to snap at anyone who dared to interrupt him before he was finished with his speech. “Now, climbing a wall, well, in the past I’ve had students tell me that it isn’t a really applicable skill in general life. After all, we’re not Canadians, right?” he glared at a student with a raised hand, “We don’t care about your mother Greenburg.” He sighed before resuming, “But let me tell you, if I had been in possession of a good set of upper arm muscles, I might not have had to freeze for an entire night in Beacon Hills’ Preserve, and for all we know, I might still have a full set of testicles.”

Newt froze, briefly distracted from his troubles by the sheer ridiculousness of the Coach’s statement. He turned to look at Lydia, who shrugged, clearly used to the strangeness of the situation.

“Besides, the state of California has decided, in conjunction with the President’s Council for Fitness, _the President’s Council for Fitness!_ Have decreed that this is an essential activity for me to remain an accredited gym teacher. So! Without, further ado, Salamander! Start climbing!”

Newt looked at The Coach in confusion. “It’s Newt.”

“Whatever, start climbing, Jackson, spot him.”

Newt stepped forward, pulling on a harness, looking at Thomas in confusion as he did so. For possibly the first time since Thomas had been brought up in the box, he wasn’t reassured by what was clearly meant to be a comforting smile. Eventually he figured out how to hook himself up properly, attaching himself to the safety cord.

Jackson pulled it tight, briefly taking Newt off of his feet. He glared at the muscular teenager, though as far as he could tell, it had very little effect upon him. He breathed closing, his eyes for just a moment.

_For all of the treachery of The Maze, it was surprisingly easy to climb the vine he had chosen. After the first few false starts, he managed to find the right sort of rhythm to propel himself upwards._

Newt opened his eyes, suddenly feeling everyone’s eyes upon his back. He grimaced, walking forward and taking hold of the closest handhold, and pulling himself up slightly.

He breathed deeply as he found himself falling into a very familiar rhythm. He’d be fine, he just needed to get to the top of the wall and then down again. So, he kept breathing, kept going, reaching the top of the wall after about half of a minute.

_The top of the wall had been such a strange place to be. In his time as a runner, he had been so used to simply accepting that he’d never escape their shadows, that now, to see the whole impossible maze, was something so strange that he could barely understand it._

_He stood at the edge, knowing that he only had to take a step…_

Newt froze looking down at the crowd below, not quite close enough for him to be able to discern the expression of The Coach, but he could guess that it was something approaching irritation, confusion at how such a young person could be so stuck at something so simple.

He shook his head, trying to breathe properly, but feeling his throat constricting with every second.

_It had been such a warm beautiful day, he’d waited for just a moment before he took a step forward imagining that he could hear birds, and that there was nothing for him to worry about. He had no memory of his mother’s voice, but just for a moment, he tried to conjure some sort of sound in his mind._

_It didn’t work, but he felt a smile come to his face anyway. He just had to take one little step forward._

Newt froze, shaking his head as he heard the concerned voice of Lydia float up from below.

“It’s okay, Newt, just come down, it’s fine.”

It was soon joined by the voice of the coach. “Skink, it’s just a wall, you’ve done the hard part, just rappel down now.”

He continued to shake his head. From where he was positioned, he was at eyeline with the top of the wall, the plywood which made up the bulk of it dusty, and very worn. It felt as though every single muscle in his body had become tense, refusing him the possibility of letting go.

_And so, with the sun on his face, and a smile upon it too, he had stepped forward._

_At that time, the only thing which had prevented his untimely demise had been a stretch of vine. It wasn’t particularly effective in stopping him, but by snaring around his ankle, it had slowed enough for only his leg to be broken, instead of every bone in his body._

In the case of the present day, there were better safety precautions than had been available to anyone in the maze.

Newt still fell when his muscles gave out. Jackson didn’t quite catch him in time, but fortunately, there was a large mat waiting for him when he reached the floor.

The last thing he felt before he passed out was Thomas’ arms coming around him in a just too-tight embrace.


	11. Where once was love...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt recovers. The Pack plans. Trouble comes to Beacon Hills (again).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, even though this is my second update after Easter, I just wanted to thank you for all your patience during that time. Also, a late Happy Easter/Happy Passover to all my readers, I hope those of you who were also forced to watch the 1959 version of Ben Hur on Good Friday survived the experience :)

Newt spent the rest of the day in his bed at home. Much to Thomas’ displeasure, he hadn’t been allowed to accompany him. Instead he’d been dragged back into the school when Noah came to pick up Newt.

The Sheriff of Beacon Hills was conflicted, on the one hand, he’d been glad to see Newt was unharmed, and even lucid when asked about his name.  On the other, only a fool would deny the inherent concern that was raised by seeing a teenager in a traumatised state after a simple gym class.

So, instead of confronting the problem head on as he probably should have, he decided to let Newt sleep, sitting at his bedside in Thomas’ bedroom, a cup of coffee in his hands. He rocked on his chair as he thought about what he could do next, not even noticing when Newt woke up for the first time.

“Noah?” He sat up, running his hand through his hair and looking around with confusion, blinking blearily before he began to speak, “I was at the school, in P.E.,” he swallowed, clearing his throat, “What happened?”

Noah sighed, “It looks like you fainted, again. This time we can’t blame it on not eating breakfast, so Melissa, you remember the nurse from the hospital? She’s coming around to take some blood samples, and we’ll see if we can figure out what caused it.”

“Shouldn’t I go to the hospital?” Noah smiled at newt’s quick minded thinking, he was glad to see that Newt hadn’t been too badly shaken up by the incident. “That’s where doctors are normally, right?” Newt fell back into the bed, clearly not quite up to sitting up for now, looking at Noah blearily from where he’d fallen against the pillow.

“Well, Melissa and I go way back, so we decided she’d be fine to come over for a home visit. So, if you need, and I think you do, you can go back to sleep for a little bit. Does that sound okay?”

Newt nodded, and closed his eyes, leaving Noah alone once again.

He walked out of the room, ending up sitting on the front porch as he waited for Melissa to arrive. His coffee had gone cold by now, but he still sipped at it, using the bitter taste to focus upon the conundrum that Newt presented to him. There was no doubt that he sympathised with the boy, but when it came to trying to help him, he had very little idea of what he was meant to do.

He still hadn’t come up with a solution by the time that Melissa rolled up in her car. She brought with her the same level of warmth that she had always done, in both her mannerisms and in the take out that she’d brought with her.

He stood, nodding at her as she walked up to the house. “Hey Melissa.”

“Noah,” she smiled following him as he turned and walked into the house, “How’s my patient? Surviving I hope.”

“I think that he’ll be okay, but then I’m not a medical professional.” He led her upstairs and into Thomas room, stopping her at the entrance to whisper to her, “Just be gentle okay? I just get the feeling that he’s fragile, right now, yeah?”

Melissa didn’t say anything in response, an even wider smile coming to her face as she approached Newt, kneeling by his bedside as she brought a variety of medical equipment out of her black doctor’s bag.

“Hey Newt, I’m Melissa. We met at the hospital, do you remember?” Newt nodded his head sleepily, trying to sit up a little bit. “It’s okay, I just need to see your arm for a little bit, is that okay?” she took hold of the appendage once it was offered, “I’m going to take some blood samples, and we’re going to do a full blood test.”

“What’s that?” Melissa smiled at Newt’s question, not in a condescending way, just happily.

“Well we test for all of the important components of blood, and their levels,” She took out an iodine soaked piece of cotton wool, rubbing it where his already prominent veins were the bluest. “At the moment, the running theory is that you have anaemia, it’s a disease where your blood cells can’t properly bind to iron. It’s very common in the Mediterranean, especially the Greek Islands.”

“Is it fatal?”

Melissa smiled and shook her head, bringing out the sterile needle and connecting it to one of the blood collection vials. “No, it’s very manageable, but before we even think about it, it’s a good idea to get an idea of the general picture, so why don’t you close your eyes and think about something happy, because I need six full vials.”

Noah winced more than Newt did as Melissa went about her blood collection. She helped Newt to sit up afterwards gesturing for Noah to come sit next to her. “Stay here while I wash my hands. I brought Vietnamese for lunch, okay?”

Noah nodded, smiling as Newt visibly perked up at the mention of food. He moved to help Newt sit up by moving some pillows around, finishing just as Melissa returned.

All things considered, it was a lovely lunch, even if one of the Noodles in the Pho soup hit Newt in the face when he sucked it up just a little too fast.

After dinner, Newt fell asleep again, waking up only when he felt someone sit on the bed next to him. He woke up to see Thomas looking down at him.

“Hey babe.” Thomas raised a hand up to check Newt’s forehead, “You know I was very worried when Noah had to come to pick you up. I’m glad that you aren’t in hospital.”

Newt smiled. “Me too, I think Noah had to pull a few strings, but I’m fine here. How was the rest of school?” He shifted slightly, moving closer to Thomas for some shared warmth.

“It was okay, but I think Lydia missed you in art class. She said to tell you that she hopes you get better soon, and that if you wanted a more dramatic way of introducing yourself to the student body, there was a very low chance of you ever finding it.” Thomas laughed, his hand still on Newt’s face.

“I like her, I think she’s funny.” Newt leaned forward, sighing in relief as Thomas caught him, “And after today, I think that I’m going to need all of the friends I can get.”

“It was all Jackson’s fault anyway. Scott said in History that he’d always been a bit of a dick. No-one blames you, you know that right?” He kissed the top of Newt’s head, both of them relieved to be together and alone for the first time since they’d arrived home that day. “I for one, think you’re pretty cool. I would even go as far as saying awesome.”

“And devastatingly handsome,” Newt fell back against the pillows once again, “What’s Scott like?”

Thomas shrugged, “I think he’s okay, he doesn’t talk to me about anything really important much, but he’s fun to talk to and to distract in class. Especially during Economics. He looks like a lost puppy when Coach is going through the maths.” He turned to look at Newt, a strange gleam back in his eye. “But enough of him, I’ve missed you.” He linked their hands, holding on tight.

“Ever the romantic.” Newt groaned as Thomas picked him up, clinging very tight when it became apparent that the brunet was going to go through the window rather than down the stairs. “Where are we going?”

“Just hold on tight, you’ll see in a minute.”

Newt closed his eyes, feeling as they were suddenly went from being on the roof, to airborne to on the ground. He felt Thomas exhale from under him as he straightened.

“You still with me?”

“Yep.” Newt smiled at Thomas, letting himself be carried away.

* * *

On the other side of Beacon Hills, Scott had gathered with his pack on a cliff overlooking the entire town. He waited for Lydia and Alison to arrive, only speaking when they had sat down on the hood of Lydia’s car. He smiled at them, doing his best not to stare too long at Alison. Especially when he saw Isaac make googly eyes in her direction.

That ship had sailed a long time ago.

“So, I feel like, we all should have an idea about why I brought you here.” He saw Jackson AND Peter rolling their eyes but continued to talk regardless. “I know that we said we were going to give him time, but there’s something wrong with Stiles.”

“You mean, aside from being kidnapped, having his memory wiped, and then left to his own devices for a year and a half?” Lydia questioned, she raised her eyebrows curiously, not threatening Scott’s authority, just trying to understand it.

Scott turned to her with a sardonic expression upon his face, “I was more referring to the panic attack during history class. He’s not okay, and I don’t think Newt is either, and I want to help.” He smiled as Lydia shrugged in her own unique way of saying that it was a good point. “I know that he’s been through some difficult things, but we should have the resources to help him, right?”

Peter sighed at his statement, “Scott, you can’t seriously be thinking about exposing our world for the sake of someone who doesn’t even remember you.”

“I have the ability to help someone, I should at least try!”

Derek stepped forward, pushing Peter back, “I agree that something’s strange, Peter and I found him asleep at the Nemeton.”

“What was he doing there?” Scott’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Was he okay?”

Peter stepped forward again, “Post-coital bliss suits him.” Scott’s eyes widened, he tried to formulate a response to Peter’s normal inappropriate behaviour, but was interrupted by Isaac.

“Oh my God, those two are like, exhibitionists, I swear,” Isaac turned to Scott, “Do they even know that beds exist, and are more comfortable than leaves?”

Scott met Derek’s eyes, both of them sighing at the less controllable members of the pack. They waited for a moment, Scott only opening his mouth when he knew that everyone would hear him without interruption. “If he’s around the nemeton, I mean, it’s a very, charged place, right? It can’t be a good thing, can it?”

Derek shrugged, “It can be charged by blood, there might be a slight chance that there are other things which could affect it.” He stepped forward, looking Scott directly in the eye, “It might be a good idea to keep an eye on him. And Newt as well, they’re practically joined at the him, so you know, it shouldn’t be too hard.” The enigmatic young man turned to look over the rest of the town, “Especially now, I can feel something moving around Beacon Hills, and it can’t be good.”

* * *

Minho actually got along with his sister, much to both his and his family’s initial surprise.

So it was no surprise to anyone that on that particular night, they were sitting on the couch in the living room, doing their homework together while they snacked on a huge amount of chocolate. They’d worked out a peaceful rhythm in their lives; School, Dinner, Homework, Gossip.

And Minho was just about to finish his economics assignment. “So, how’s school?” he grinned at Kira, closing his exercise book, taking a piece of chocolate out of the bowl they were sitting in, and waiting for her to finish her English homework and answer.

“It’s, good actually, I’ve made some friends.” She smiled, taking a piece of chocolate for herself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, at lunch the other day, I sat with um, you know Scott, from history? And his friends are really nice, we talked about states of living and stuff. How about you? Better than being chased?”

Minho grinned, shaking his head, “Today was kind of stressful, with Newt and everything, and then at lunch, Thomas just wouldn’t stop talking about him, I swear, it’s sickening,” he grinned as he took another bite of chocolate, “but yeah, it’s a relief to be away from craziness, even if it does mean dealing with Coach. I’m pretty sure that he would make anyone fall from a wall.”

“Was he like that in the maze? Thomas, not Coach.”

Minho shrugged, “They weren’t together, that happened after I got to New York, but you could tell, they spent so much time looking at each other furtively the whole time they knew each other, but you know, life and death situations aren’t really the best place to start relationships.” He smiled at his sister. “I am glad that they’re happy, Newt’s been through enough, and so has Thomas.”

Kira nodded, the two of them quiet for a moment before she began to speak again, “You know, Lydia and Alison are like, the nicest people I’ve ever met.

“Yeah?” Minho smiled, the gossip moving to a happier place.

* * *

In the master bedroom, Noshiko and Ken were having a much more sombre discussion. Ken sat on the side of the bed, while his wife stood by the window.

“Were you right to worry? Noshiko, my love, is it as we feared?”

Despite the day having been warm, with no sign of rain, a strike of lightning came down upon the lawn just in front of the Yukimura family house. Noshiko turned to her husband.

“There is a Nogitsune in Beacon Hills.”

* * *

Newt sat up on the stump, watching Thomas as the latter pulled his shirt and trousers on. As far as Newt was concerned, he’d not be moving for a little bit more, and walking was out of the question for at least another hour and a half. He groaned slightly as Thomas came back to lie next to him, nearly purring in happiness when he felt himself lifted just enough to rest upon Thomas’ chest instead of the uncomfortably solid tree stump. He let his eyes flicker closed again, unable to supress the small shiver that ran through him when Thomas began to run his fingers through his hair.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful,” he felt the words rumbling through Thomas’ chest before he heard them, smiling at the sentiment.

“You do everyday love,” he shuddered as Thomas’ fingers began to trace down his back, “Not again, love, I’m really tired.” He looked up at Thomas whose face was completely unreadable. “Love, are you okay?” he put one of his hands on Thomas’ chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his paramour’s heart under his fingers. He sighed in relief at that modicum of normalcy.

Thomas nodded, his fingers returning to Newt’s hair, stroking through the locks in a way that only served to make the hair messier, rather than straighter. They sat there for a little longer, before Newt suddenly found himself being pulled up, ending up straddling Thomas as the brunette stared him in the eyes.

“Tommy?” he tried to wriggle out of his paramour’s grip, only to find that he was being held in a grip which was tighter than Thomas should have physically been able to manage. “Tommy, you’re scaring me.” He wriggled again, feeling his distress become evident upon his face. “Love, please, you’re hurting me.” He looked into Thomas’ eyes, finding them to be supernaturally dark. “Please, Tommy, Please.” He began to whimper, “What’s happening?”

“Oh Newt, you know that you’re so beautiful when you’re terrified?” That wasn’t Thomas’ voice.

Newt swallowed, ceasing to struggle, blinking back the tears and trying to think rationally. “This isn’t real, it’s a dream, you’re not Tommy.”

The feeling of claws in Newt’s side quickly dispelled that idea, and even if that hadn’t, the chuckle would almost certainly have, the sound of it completely inhuman. “You’re mostly wrong you know,” the _thing_ inside of Thomas spoke even as Newt gasped as he felt the claws withdraw and a slow trickle of blood from his side begin. “This is real, this isn’t a dream, but I’m not Tommy, at least, not completely.” It stroked at Newt’s skin, ignoring the whimpers which it elicited, “You know, I was going to try you, all broken and always in pain, but that useless leg of yours,” it tsked at him, bringing a finger up to his lips and stroking along his cupid’s bow, “It would just slow me down and we couldn’t have that, could we?”

Newt whimpered again, trying to look around, only too feel the Thing’s fingers closing around his throat, the only thing separating the two of them was the thin fabric of his jacket which he had been using as his blanket, and he desperately wished that he had at least pulled on one layer of clothing.

“Don’t worry, Newt, I wouldn’t do a thing like that to you. You know, I think if I tried, your precious Tommy might just be able to kick me out, no, you’re going to be completely untouched by me.” The Thing tightened its grip for a few seconds, then let go, releasing Newt entirely as it scrambled off of the Nemeton. “But I can’t make any promises for the cold, or the coyotes, or even the foxes.” It smirked wickedly before lunging forward again, gripping Newt by the throat with enough force that the russet-haired boy saw black spots begin to dance in his vision.

“Please, Tommy, Please.” He gasped through the grip, tears coming to his eyes.

“See now, that talking? That’s the exact opposite of what I want.” It tightened its grip for a few more seconds, letting go only when Newt was on the verge of blacking out. It examined the bruises which were quickly forming around his neck. “There, that should give me a few days.”

Newt fell back onto the Nemeton coughing painfully, shuddering as he felt the Thing approach him once again. He tried, with all of his might to say something, but it was to painful for him to do anything but hiss. The tears came to him without his permission, the shuddering sobs hurting his throat even more than the original chokehold had.

“And you know what’s tragic? Deep down, Tommy’s watching all of this, and trust me, the screams that are coming from him, they’re terrifying.” It chuckled again, pulling Newt’s jacket so it covered him entirely. “Now, you’re going to stay right here, and if someone finds you, then all of the power to them. But,” a coyote howled in the distance, “I don’t like your chances.” With that, the Thing left, leaving a terrified and bruised Newt on the tree stump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I live off angst.
> 
> (Insert Evil Cackle here).


	12. ...Love is no more.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so very important warning. There is discussion of sexual assault in this chapter. It's just in the context of eliminating it from a medical inquiry, bit if you're worried about being triggered, skip from when Melissa sends Scott out to get tea, to when she goes into the kitchen.
> 
> Also, you may noticed that I've bumped the rating up, it's because of the previous point. I really don't think I have in it me to write smut ever, but especially not in this context.
> 
> With that out of the way I hope you enjoy.

Newt spent hours in a state between asleep and awake, feeling as though he was neither living or dead. There seemed to be no time, every breath meaningless in the scope of all things, even his heartbeat eventually meaning nothing but white noise.

He’d tried crying, but it hurt his throat too much. So he just laid there, capable of doing absolutely nothing.

A grey coyote approached him, Newt not seeing it until it jumped onto the tree-stump and laid down next to him. For a few minutes it just looked at him, Newt taking stock of its bright blue eyes even in his daze. After that time, the coyote laid down on top of him, being so careful not to touch his throat that Newt briefly entertained the possibility that it was intelligent. He was soon distracted by the warmth it provided, its matted fur surprisingly soft, its calm heartbeat a welcome distraction from Newt’s own frantic one.

Newt closed his eyes, finally falling asleep.

* * *

Scott found him there a few hours later, just as the sun was beginning to cross the horizon. The leader of the Beacon Hills’ pack walked onto the Nemeton after hours of desperately searching for the source of whatever was giving him a bad feeling. Truth be told, he wasn’t even entirely sure as to what had brought him to the Nemeton, apart from the general feeling that _something_ was going on there.

He walked forward, holding out a hand to the coyote, trying to figure out what it was doing there. He could see that there was something different about it, Newt’s unravaged throat evidence of that. He kneeled by the side of the Nemeton, holding his hand out and gently patting at the beast’s side.

Its head jerked up, the cold blue eyes confirming that it wasn’t an ordinary coyote.

Scott breathed out, readying himself for what he should say, “Hello, my name is Scott McCall, I’m the leader of a pack that’s here in Beacon Hills.”

The coyote, perhaps unsurprisingly, did not respond to his statement. Instead it returned to where it had laid previously, alongside Newt, it’s paws positioned almost awkwardly, avoiding his throat, which Scott could now see was bruised to the point of being black and blue. Scott flinched, only now noticing that most of Newt’s clothes were beside him on the Nemeton, rather than next to him.

Thomas wouldn’t do something like that. Would he?

Newt began to stir, scrambling back when he saw Scott. The young werewolf held out his hands placatingly, taking a step back. “Newt, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” He waited, only walking forwards when Newt nodded that he could. He stood as the slight teen pulled his rumpled clothes towards him, pulling them on awkwardly while the coyote guarded him. It was almost comical, the way that the creature glared at Scott with an intensity rarely seen outside of Harris’ chemistry classroom.

Eventually, Newt was fully dressed, his coat once more a coat, rather than a blanket. The bruises were only more evident, Scott only fully understanding their total extent when Newt turned, revealing that they went nearly the entire way around.

“Newt? What happened?” Scott walked forwards, kneeling before the Nemeton, “Where’s Thomas? Did… did he do this to you?” He held out a hand, helping Newt off of the Nemeton. After a few seconds two things became apparent; firstly, the russet-haired youth wasn’t going to be able to walk at anything resembling a reasonable pace, secondly, the coyote wasn’t going anywhere. Scott sighed, looking at Newt apologetically, “I think I’m going to have to carry you.”

Newt flinched, and the coyote barked. Scott sighed again. He waited for Newt to react to his proposal, standing back as much as he could while still keeping Newt standing upright. After about a minute, the silent boy nodded, allowing Scott to scoop him up by the legs, wrapping one arm around his neck, the other staying firmly planted in the fur of the coyote.

Scott began to walk, deciding against bringing Newt to the Sheriff’s house, knowing that his own, more supernaturally aware mother would probably have a better idea of what was going on. He walked in through the front porch, debating for a few seconds before he let the coyote follow them inside.

He could tell by his mother’s confused expression that she wasn’t exactly pleased by the situation, but she treated Newt with the utmost care.

* * *

Newt was terrified, he had been since the Thing had left him on the tree stump, but at least Scott’s house was warm, and Melissa was kind. He raised his hands to his throat as she tried to examine it, trying to cover the bruises, flinching away. He shook his head, burying his face in the fur of the coyote.

“Newt,” Melissa began, prompting him to raise his face from the coyote’s fur, “Newt, I need to examine you, okay? So I need to look at your throat. I know that you might be worried about what I’m going to think, or say, but I promise you that I’m not going to judge you, okay?” She reached out, using her left hand to move some of the coyote’s fur away, so she could see Newt’s face. “And I promise you, the sooner that I can look at your neck, the cooner you’re going to feel better.”

Newt sat up again, nodding for her to proceed. He closed his eyes, trying to stifle the flinches that came to him almost involuntarily whenever he felt her gloved hands come into contact with the bruised skin of his neck. Obviously, it wasn’t working, Melissa stopping after only a few seconds of checking.

“Newt?” he opened his eyes, frowning slightly at her even as she appeared to be making the most sympathetic face she could possibly manage, “Newt, I know that this is a hard thing to imagine right now, but you are so strong, and you can live through this. And I know that you’re scared, but I need you to show me that strength right now, just for a few seconds, okay, can you do that for me Newt?”

Newt nodded, closing his eyes again, focussing on the feeling of the coyote’s fur underneath his fingers as Melissa resumed her examination. After a few minutes of this, Melissa stopped, and Newt opened his eyes. He tried reciprocate when she smiled at him gently, but it was ruined by the tears which were coming to his eyes. She nodded at him before turning to Scott.

“Honey, could you go and make us some coffee? Or maybe some hot water with lemon and honey for Newt?”

Scott nodded, Melissa waited for him to be out of earshot before she turned to Newt again.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions, but, with the way that Scott found you, and the way you’re looking right now? Well, it looks like what I would expect from someone coming into an ER after being, um, hurt.” She cleared her throat, “After being sexually assaulted. And I need to know if that happened to you, because there are things we can do, if that has happened, to help you. Do you understand?”

Newt nodded.

“Okay, and have you been hurt… like that?”

Newt paused for a few seconds, trying to think about where Tommy had disappeared, and become the Thing. He shook his head, noticing how Melissa seemed to sigh in relief as he did so. He laid down again, smiling slightly as the coyote licked at his face.

He couldn’t speak, but at least there was this.

Melissa breathed out a sigh of relief as she took off her gloves and went into the kitchen. She smiled at Scott, who was carefully spooning the honey into a mug with a unicorn on it. Not wanting to disturb him, she walked around the kitchen counter before speaking to him.

He looked up at her with concern. “Is Newt going to be okay?”

Melissa shrugged, “It’s not as bad as I thought it might be when you brought him in, but the way in which his throat has been bruised,” she picked up the cup of coffee Scott had poured for her, “it’s normally what we see in cases of domestic abuse. I know that he’s your friend, but I do need to ask, do you think that Thomas would-?”

Scott shook his head fervently, “No, you should see them mom, Thomas treats him like he’s the most precious thing in the universe. He would never hurt him, not in a million years.”

Melissa nodded, “Okay, let’s bring this in to Newt, I know you said that the coyote was going to be fine, but I’m not comfortable leaving Newt alone with it.” She and Scott walked back into the living room.

Melissa gently nudged the coyote so that she could sit next to Newt. She smiled at him as Newt took his hot water with lemon and honey, able to see him relaxing as he drank. For a few seconds, there was nothing but companionable silence, but then, as was her duty as a Nurse, Melissa had to speak.

“So, Newt, I know that you can’t speak right now. But, if I’m going to care for you, then I’m going to need to be able to ask you questions and get actual detailed answers from you. So, do you think that you’re up to writing?”

Newt nodded, though she couldn’t help but notice the way he flinched when she got up to retrieve the notepad she kept by the phone in the kitchen. She returned at a more cautious pace than she had left, offering the teen the notepad only when he seemed calm enough to be able to comprehend it. She smiled at him in the reassuring way she had perfected as the mother of a boy as sensitive as Scott.

“If this is getting to much, then you’re allowed to say you’ve had enough, and I’ll stop asking questions, and we can do something like watch a movie, okay?”

She waited for Newt to nod before she began.

“Okay, so, my first question is about what happened for you to get those bruises. If you could tell me where you were, and who you were with, and what happened there, that would help.”

She watched as Newt take the pen in hand, leaning over the coffee table with an expression of quiet determination. It took a few minutes for Newt to get everything down, and was filled with false starts where it looked like the youth was about to cry, but eventually he was handing her a sheet.

_I was with ~~Tommy~~ Thomas. We went to a wide tree stump, near a nest of fireflies._

Melissa sighed, looking at the meagre information with a sense of disappointment. She looked up at him, her face set in a serious expression. “Do you want to stop? We’ve got Netflix, so if you need a minute, we can just watch something, okay?”

Newt shook his head, taking the pen in hand again and quickly writing another note.

_I’m sorry, this is hard. I’m really trying. I’m so sorry._

Melissa shook her head, wrapping an arm around Newt’s skinny torso and smiling. “You don’t have to be sorry, okay? You haven’t done anything wrong, and everything you’re doing now is voluntary. So, do you want a break?”

Newt shook his head, taking the pen up again, his face contorted in an expression which was a mix of pain and determination.

_We were lying down talking about stuff, and then it was like he changed mid-sentence._

Melissa frowned, gesturing for Scott to take it from her. After he had stood up and read the note, he kneeled in front of Newt, absentmindedly patting the coyote’s fur before he spoke to Newt. “When you say he changed, what do you mean? It was still Thomas right?”

Melissa watched as Newt shook his head, beginning to write again. She read over his shoulder, unable to hide her horrified expression as she took in the information.

_It wasn’t him. It was like a Thing had taken control. It was cruel, not like him. It wasn’t him._

She had though that after the darach, her life might have returned to normal, but it seemed that she had been denied that simple luxury. Her eyes locked with Scott’s, realising that he knew something which she didn’t when instead of seeing confusion in his eyes, there was only a sense of resignation. But, that wasn’t her prerogative today, Newt was her charge, her patient, and she was going to take care of him for as long as he needed her to. She looked down at the tired youth, rearranging him so that she could get off of the couch.

Much as she hated the thought, she was going to have to call John.

Before she walked into the kitchen, she turned to Newt. She couldn’t help the stony expression that was on her face.

“I need to call John. I’ll get him to come pick you up after I’ve given you some breakfast.”

Newt’s reaction was instantaneous, his eyes becoming wide with panic as he frantically gestured for her to stop. For a moment it seemed like he had forgotten the extent of damage to his throat, making a noise that sounded more like machinery grinding together than anything that should come out of a human. Melissa stepped forward, her hands out in a placating gesture.

“Newt, you need to calm down, okay? I have to call John, he’s your legal guardian and you’re injured. He’ll be worried, and I can’t keep you here indefinitely.”

Newt continued to gesture wildly, desperately trying to communicate something, but the message was lost in translation. Melissa was unable to do anything but walk over to him, grabbing his arms and gently guiding him back onto the couch.

“Newt, I’m really sorry, I have to call your dad, and if you keep on doing this, you’re going to hurt yourself. Newt, please.”

Newt collapsed back onto the couch, his entire frame shaking as he held his head in his hands. Melissa walked over to him, her hopes of getting on the phone put on hold for the moment. She sat behind him, carefully laying one hand on his back, leaning down so that she could see his face slightly better. After what seemed like an age, Newt stopped trembling and looked at Melissa fearfully. She smiled at him, her brow creased in concern, taking a deep breath before she began to speak.

“Newt, I know that right now, you’re probably scared beyond belief, but I need to talk to John, and get this sorted out. You haven’t done anything wrong, and there is nothing that you need to be ashamed about. So, with that in mind, I want you to try to calm down. Okay? Breathe with me if you need to.” She took a few breaths in, making sure that Newt was in sync with her as she took deep breaths in and out.

It took several minutes, but eventually, she managed to calm him down enough to make her way into the kitchen and call John.

“Hey, it’s Melissa. I need you to come over right now. It’s about Newt.”

* * *

One of the perks of being the county sheriff was that you didn’t ever need to worry about speeding tickets.

This was the only positive thing that Noah could think of as he sped towards Melissa’s house. Technically he could have walked, but he figured that if there was something wrong with Newt, there was a high chance of needing to use the car to get him home.

When he arrived to the McCall house, he was greeted by a serious looking Melissa waiting for him on the front porch. She shook her head at him before he could even get a word out, looking over he shoulder before walking him back towards the car.

“What happened Melissa?” he tried to look past her into the house, but alas, Newt wasn’t close enough to the windows for him to see what kind of condition he was in. “Please, what happened?”

Melissa shook her head, running one hand through her hair before she answered him. “It’s complicated, so here are the basics. Newt and Thomas were out last night-”

“They’re meant to be grounded!” He would have said more, but the look in Melissa’s would have probably deterred nuclear war, and was certainly enough to stop him.

“Not important right now. They were separated, and Newt was attacked. We’re pretty sure that Thomas has run off somewhere safe, but we’ve found Newt.”

Noah froze for a second, looking at her with what he was sure was a horrified expression. “Thomas is where?” he barely managed to contain the rage which was building up in his stomach, trying to understand what was going on. “Melissa, where is my son?”

She looked at him with an expression of pure pity. “Noah, I’m so sorry, but I don’t know.”

Noah nodded walking past her and into the house, ignoring Melissa’s protestations. He brushed past Scott, who was standing by the entrance of the living room, barely noticing as he knocked the boy to the side. He stopped in front of Newt, fully intending upon unleashing the full extent of his fury at his disobedience.

But then he saw the bruises forming a grotesque ring around the fragile youth’s neck. All of the anger escaped him, instead replaced by an incredible sense of horror. He walked forward, barely noticing the coyote that was sitting with Newt as he sat on the floor in front of the boy.

“Newt, I don’t know exactly what happened to you last night, but I’m sorry that it did.” He stood up again, walking over to Newt and helping him up from the couch. He frowned as the coyote followed the, but he figures that if Melissa was going to allow it, he might as well try.

Noah turned to the door, seeing that Melissa had finally re-entered her house. They exchanged a look, one which promised that there was going to be a long discussion soon. But first, he had to focus upon the problem at hand.

That problem being the terrified seventeen-year-old who was shivering behind him.

Noah ushered Newt to the car and began the journey home.


	13. Serve God, Love Me, and Mend...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt reflects on some Happy Memories, The Noshiko family has to make a decision, and The Pack struggles for their next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have stolen the title for this chapter from Mumford and Sons. it's from Sigh No More.

Noah looked at Newt as he lay down in the back seat.

There was a sense of defeat that seemed to have permeated every single constituent atom of the boy. The only thing that kept it from being completely tragic was the coyote that was acting more like a service dog than a wild animal; sitting in the floor well and looking up at Newt every time that they went over a speed bump.

Noah sighed, deciding to wait for them to get home before he began any sort of meaningful conversation. Instead he focussed on the road, knowing that all too soon he would need to deal with this issue head on lest Newt get hurt even further.

* * *

Newt just wanted to sleep. He was so tired, but it seemed like every time he closes his eyes, all he could see were the dark eyes of the Thing that had taken over Tommy. So instead, he contented himself with engaging in a staring contest with the coyote. It was probably a fruitless endeavour, but it kept him calm enough until the car stopped in front of the Stilinski house.

He stayed still, even as Noah opened one of the doors.

“Newt, kiddo? You need to come inside, I speak from experience when I say that they’re not comfortable to sleep in overnight.”

Newt shook his head. He closed his eyes, sat up and pulled the surprisingly docile coyote onto his lap. It took a few seconds, but eventually, he opened his eyes and looked at Noah. He didn’t have anything to write with, and he knew that he couldn’t hope to speak, so he aimed for some sort of telepathic understanding as he glared at the Sheriff.

“I’m sorry Newt, but I can’t just leave you here, it’s irresponsible parenting.” The Sheriff leaned forward, picking up Newt from the back seat, pulling him out of the car and letting him lean against his side. “We’re going to have a relaxing day, okay? We can just watch movies, and I’ll order take-out and you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.” They reached the front door, the coyote following them inside.

Newt declined the offer of food and entertainment, keeping his hand in the coyote’s fur as he ascended the stairs and went to his and Thomas’ room. He collapsed on the bed, pulling the messy sheets up around himself. The coyote followed him, sniffing curiously at a discarded top on the mattress before it settled next to him.

Newt closed his eyes, pulling the coyote towards him like an oversized teddy-bear.

_They had a small alcove in the hospital. It used to be something like a storage cupboard, but had since turned into a little nook which was conveniently located in the corner of Newt’s bedroom._

_He was still so weak, he spent most of his day sleeping in his bed. Tommy, who had not been administered with an almost toxic pathogen, and whose stab wound was much less intense, was rarely as exhausted. He spent most of his time in the alcove, reading Doctor Rockatansky’s copy of Anne of Green Gables, or writing on some unused medical charts._

_It kept Newt calm to feel him in the room. Technically, they weren’t meant to interact, all of the psychologists agreeing that it was detrimental to positive progress. They were the only exception._

_On one particular day, Newt had been particularly exhausted, the pain killers needed after they’d stitched the tear in his pericardium making it hard to even keep his eyes open. On that particular day, after he’d finished his terrible hospital food lunch and had been checked over for probably the third time that day, Tommy joined him in his bed. The brunet had wrapped his arms around Newt, and probably suffered a numb arm as a result, but it was like nothing was wrong in the world._

_Newt had kept his eyes closed as Tommy talked to him, the only indication that he was listening and not asleep was the occasional smile the crept onto his face as Tommy spoke._

_“You know, now that we know everything that Ava Paige was talking about is complete bullshit, we should be thinking about the future, and what we want to do. Like there’s a whole world out there.”_

_Newt had only the energy to grunt affirmatively, waiting for Thomas to continue._

_“So, I was thinking, why not try somewhere cold? I’ve had enough of deserts after the Scorch. Why not try somewhere like Canada, we could find somewhere nice on one of the smaller islands. Plus, I was reading up on Doctor Rockatansky’s phone, and it says they have good health care, so...”_

_“Where’s Canada?” Newt barely got the words out, feeling himself begin to fall asleep despite his best efforts. He grumbled as he felt Thomas move around, obviously reaching for something off of the bed. “Tommy, love, I just want to sleep, before I say anything stupid.”_

_“You need to keep your eyes open for this, but then I promise that we’ll both sleep, okay?”_

_Newt reluctantly cracked his eyes open, looking at a page from a book which looked like it had been stolen from somewhere they weren’t meant to go. “Why am I looking at a geographical representation of doctor to patient ratios Tommy?” He couldn’t help the curious uptick of his voice._

_Tommy laughed into his neck, “Not that, okay, see, this” he pointed to a place called Arizona, “That’s where we were, with The Maze, and The Scorch and… and The City.” Tommy took a deep breath, and Newt could feel the brunet trying to supress a shudder. He moved his finger across to the left side of the page, where the land me the sea. “So, this is where we are now.” He moved his hand directly up towards the top edge of the page, to a land which looked like it was fragmenting. “This is Canada.”_

_Newt hummed, “Cuba has more doctors.”_

_“Apparently, Cuba is harder to get to, and has a higher chance of being nuked whenever we have a president who’s a dickhead.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“So when we get to being 18, we’re going to go there, they have pretty good employment, so it shouldn’t be too hard making a living there. You know how to make things grow, we can work on a farm or something. Sound good?” Newt had felt Thomas look down at him then, and smiled as he felt the brunet trace one finger along his cheek, “I love you Newt.”_

_Newt buried his face into the pillow, smiling at Tommy’s plan. “Okay. I love you too Tommy.”_

_After that everything became fuzzy as Newt had fallen into a deep, dreamless and medicated sleep._

When Newt woke, the sun was low in the sky and he could smell Noah’s cooking coming from downstairs. He rose, walking alongside the coyote as he made his way to the kitchen.

Noah turned as Newt came into the room, his smile wide but most definitely fake. “I made us some soup for tonight, after you collapsed I figured that it might be nice to custom make something. It’s something Polish, Sti- Thomas’ mother used to make it when he was sick.”

Newt nodded, sitting down at the counter, he looked down at his hands, blinking tiredly.

“So, is your friend going to be a permanent member of the household?” Noah leant down in front of the coyote, spending a few seconds assessing it before he brought a package of mince from the refrigerator. The Sheriff looked pensive as he opened it and set it in front of the now eager animal. “I was thinking, if you tilt your head a little bit, and squint, and stand about 30 feet away. It looks like a husky.”

Newt had no idea what a husky was. He nodded anyway, evidently, Noah was on a roll.

“So I was thinking, if you need to go to school with it, you could. We could call it an emotional support animal. We’d have to get it a leash, and maybe wash it, but it might work.”

Newt nodded, smiling at the coyote as it scarfed down the minced meat it had been offered.

“And you know, if you’re not ready to talk, even after your throat gets better, that’s okay too.”

That was the last thing that Noah said before they tucked into the soup he had spent several hours so carefully preparing.

* * *

On the other side of town, an emergency meeting of the McCall pack had been called. Scott waited until everyone had gathered in Derek’s loft before he began to speak. Each word had to be carefully chosen, every sentence perfectly constructed so that he could get his point across.

It would have been so much easier if Stiles had been around.

He took a deep breath, looking Isaac in the eyes as he spoke. “Whatever’s come to Beacon Hills, it’s hurt Newt, and it’s taken Thomas.” He paused, waiting for the news to sink in, then began again. “I’ve been looking through Alison’s bestiary, but I can’t find anything like what Newt described.” He looked at Derek, shrugging, “And Deaton’s at a loss too.”

The pack, quite predictably, broke out into a cacophony of noises once it was apparent that Scott had finished talking. Also, again, quite predictably, Peter was the loudest voice of dissent, immediately walking forwards. “You mean to tell us they’ve brought something into this town, and then lost control of it. Brilliant. Any other news you want to break? Have you also managed to bring another alpha pack down on our heads?”

Scott, much like everyone else, was used to Peter’s antics, and ignored him. He walked forward, brushing past the disgruntled 30-year-old who had nothing better to do than hang around a bunch of teenagers who hated him. “We desperately need to figure this out guys, it nearly killed Newt, and it could be doing something even worse to Thomas.”

“What’s the something worse?” Allison piped up from where she was sitting on the trunk of Lydia’s car, “Is Newt going to be okay?”

Scott shrugged, turning back to Derek, “All I know is that Thomas was missing this morning, and that when I found Newt he looked like he’d been half beaten to death. I think it has to do with the week that I couldn’t control my powers, and that Allison kept on having nightmares about her dead Aunt. We need to solve this, and solve this soon. Otherwise I’ve just got a feeling that this is only going to get much, much worse.”

Even Peter nodded at that, but, unfortunately, the pack had no suggestions.

That was, until Lydia began to speak.

“Maybe we could talk to Newt,” she stepped up from the trunk of her car, walking forward so that she could properly see the entire pack. “If he saw it, then he should have an idea of what we’re looking for.” She shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself when she had finished. “Just a thought, but I think it’s a good one.”

Scott shook his head regretfully, “I’m not sure that he can, Lydia, the bruising was so bad that you could barely tell what the skin of his throat looked like. Besides, when we asked about it, and we got him to write, he actually cried. I know that we haven’t known him for long, but I don’t want to hurt him like that, not if I can avoid it.”

Lydia frowned, “He cried?” she stepped forward even further, crowding Scott’s personal space. “What did you say to him, is he alright?” After a few seconds of interrogation, she stepped back, becoming more aware of herself. “You’re going to take me to see him tomorrow, okay?”

“Why do you need me?”

“The last time that I saw Sheriff Stilinski, he was giving me a speeding ticket, I need the friendly face.” She returned to her car, sitting next to Allison while giving Scott a strong look. “You are not getting out of this Scott.”

Scott smiled at her briefly, before returning his attention to the rest of the back. “Does anyone have any idea of what we should do.”

The rest of the pack was just as clueless as he was.

* * *

Across town, in the Yukimura house, Kira and Minho were having a crisis of their own. Namely, that in the process of Kira trying to replace a lightbulb, it had exploded, and now Minho was left in the kitchen clutching a soon to be ruined tea-towel to his hand, the blood seeping through the fabric. Somehow, he was still the calmer person in the room. Kira was on the verge of hysterics as she ran around the kitchen, searching all of the various draws for tweezers.

“Oh my god, Minho, I’m so sorry! I was just trying to be helpful!” she wailed, finally finding the tweezers and bringing them over to Minho.

“Kira, honestly, this even the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” It was true, having needles forcibly driven into his spine had been far worse, however it probably was the wrong thing to say, as shortly after that Kira actually began cry.

“I’m so sorry Minho. I just wanted to make life easier for you!” She cried, unwrapping the towel from around his hand, beginning to pick out the more prominent pieces of glass. “I swear, it’s never happened before, if it had, I wouldn’t have even touched it.”

This was the scene which Noshiko entered, her pleasant smile from a day of relaxing shopping for stationary evaporating as soon as she saw her two children in such a pained state.

“Minho?” She rushed forward, approaching her son with a horrified expression upon her face. “What happened to you?” She took the tweezers from Kira, continuing her daughter’s work with the added bonus of her hands being steady. After it became apparent that Minho was just trying to focus upon looking anywhere but his hand, Noshiko turned to Kira. “Kira, darling, I need you to calm down, and tell me exactly what happened. Did you drop something made of glass?”

Kira shook her head, having regained enough of her composure to be able to make a comprehensible sentence. “Minho’s lamp light died, so I got the box of spares to change it, and then it just exploded!”

Noshiko froze for a millisecond, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before she turned back to her daughter with a smile upon her face. “It wasn’t your fault Kira, it was probably just a faulty bulb.” She pulled out the last visible piece of glass, and led Minho over to the sink. “Now, I don’t think that there’s anything else to pull out, but I’ll get some cream, and bandage this up and we’ll see if there’s anything else in the morning.” She began to wash Minho’s hand.

The three stayed in the kitchen for a few more minutes, cleaning up the blood and glass. Noshiko did her best to smile at her two children, but on the inside, her mind was in turmoil.

While there were many things in life that Noshiko would make no claim of understanding, this was not one of them. To her, one thing was perfectly clear, Kira was a kitsune.

And now, it was up to her to explain it to both of her children.

* * *

In yet another part of the generally small town of Beacon Hills, a young man was walking through the forest. To the casual onlooker, he might have seemed to be in a fugue state, appearing to be completely unaware of his surroundings as he dragged himself between the trees.

But of course, the casual observer would have been wrong.

Thomas was indeed stuck inside his own head, but the cause wasn’t anything that a psychiatrist or psychologist would have been able to determine. Instead, there was a fox spirit which had made its way into his head, and was now controlling his every action, much to his own horror.

 _Please_ he begged internally, _Please, let me go. I need to find Newt, please, he’s hurt._

Every time he closed his eyes he was faced with the horrifying image of a spectre with a bandaged face and black slime oozing from where its mouth should have been. Even when his eyes were open, he wasn’t completely free of it. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see it, it’s loping gait unmistakable as it chased him through the preserve.

 _I know that he’s hurt,_ the strange being’s voice echoed inside his head, the same volume no matter how near or far it felt in real life. _After all, Thomas, you’re the one who hurt him, remember?_

Thomas fell to his knees, his chest heaving with sobs as he felt, rather than heard the being get closer and closer to him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and an involuntary shudder ran down his spine.

“Please,” he began to cry, “Don’t make me hurt anyone else, let me go to back to him.”

“Oh Thomas,” it growled, it’s voice much like the sound of metal grating against metal. “I would never, ever keep two fated lovers apart.” Its claw ran down the side of his face, eliciting another round of whimpering, “You’ve fought so hard, for so long to be together, I would never interfere with that.”

Thomas opened his eyes, flinching backwards when the thing leant forward, until they were both practically nose to nose. He could feel it’s putrid breath against his face.

“I just need to make a few changes first.”

To both the casual observer, and someone who knew of Thomas situation, it would have been readily apparent that the screams coming from Thomas after that ominous statement came from a place of great pain, both emotional and physical.

There was but one hope left to Thomas, something that was sitting in the bottom of his jean’s pocket.

Something that would bring both relief and pain in equal measures should it ever be used.

His phone.


	14. ...This is not the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for all the angst, but I promise you, eventually this all has a happy ending. I promise you.
> 
> So, with that said, enjoy the bucket of angst in the chapter (and the happy coyote).
> 
> Chapter title is from Sigh No More, again.

Scott was awoken from his admittedly restless sleep by the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned, sitting up in his bed, and reaching for the incessantly ringing phone. He frowned as he saw the name on the screen, surely it couldn’t be…

“Stiles?” he answered the phone, realising his mistake a few seconds too late, “I mean, Thomas. Why are you calling me?” he shook his head groggily, frowning at the early time.

“Scott, I need you to help me,” Scott sat up in bed, his earlier discontent forgotten, “Please, I don’t know where I am, but I’m freezing cold. Please, Scott, you have to help me.”

“Thomas, what do you mean that you’re freezing cold? Are you outside?”

For a few seconds there was only heavy breathing down the other end of the line, and then “Shit, Scott, it’s here, I’ve got to go.” There was a click and then the line went dead, leaving Scott sitting up and alone in bed.

He immediately knew what he had to do, he got out of bed and walked out of his room, going down the hall and frantically knocking at Isaac’s door.

“Isaac, you need to wake up, there’s something wrong with Thomas. We need to find him before it’s too late.”

* * *

On the other side of town, Newt had been sleeping relatively peacefully in his bed. It generally helped to keep the nightmares away when you had a coyote sleeping at the end of your bed. Still, it was also, generally speaking quite difficult to sleep through your adoptive father shaking you awake at 2 in the morning.

Newt frowned, sitting up ion his bed with a groggy expression. His voice had not returned to him, so he shrugged exaggeratedly, trying to convey a question to the panicked looking Noah.

“Scott says he got a phone call from Thomas, I need to go out to investigate.” Noah looked around, his expression very weary, “Look, I don’t want you to be alone, not given the circumstances, but I need to go out. There’s a very insistent Strawberry blonde waiting downstairs for you.”

Newt smiled, nodding his head and getting out of bed. He followed Noah downstairs to the living room, smiling when he saw Lydia sitting non-chalantly on the love-seat. He would have said something, but the bruises on his throat still ached, and he couldn’t think of a possible way that he was going to be able to make her glorified baby-sitting anything other than deathly boring.

Fortunately, Lydia didn’t seem put upon at all, rather the strawberry-blonde looked delighted to see him.

“Newt!” She stood up, walking forward as though she was going to hug him, only stopping at the very last moment. “If Scott had told me you were hurt I would have come earlier.” She smiled, though Newt could tell that it didn’t quite reach her eyes and that it came from a place of worry for him, rather than genuine happiness. “Anyway, I figured if we’re going to be up at such an obscene hour, we might as well be working on art homework.” She smiled, and ushered Newt into the kitchen, where she’d already set up her homework.

As it turned out, their homework remained barely touched. Instead, they ended up drinking hot chocolate, with Lydia asking him questions which he answered on the last page of his visual art diary. While most of them were asinine, and the general thing to be expected of two teenagers, after about the 90-minute mark, Newt noticed Lydia digging into the more personal parts of his life.

“So, how did you know Thomas was the one? Was there a moment or something?”

Newt shook his head, writing with the charcoal pencil that was closest to hand. _It was a gradual thing, you know, the type of thing that you know is there from the beginning, but it takes a while to develop._

Lydia smiled softly, only jumping when the coyote padded down the stairs, and nuzzled up to Newt.

“Oh my God!” she brought her feet up to rest on the chair she was sitting on, gesturing for Newt to do the same, “Why is there a coyote in your house? Newt?” she stared down at the grey creature, her fear turning to curiosity when she saw it go over to what appeared to be a food bowl.

Newt held up a page torn from the diary, _it’s a long story. But, it’s friendly._

Lydia nodded, placing her feet back on the floor, and turning back to Newt. “You are, a very interesting person, you know that Newt?”

Newt shrugged, moving over to where the kettle was and turning it on. He smiled at Lydia when he heard her groan in exasperation, and waited for the water to boil. He reached for his stash of teabags, returning with two cups of tea after a few moments. He sat and began to sip at his tea, smiling at Lydia’s puzzled expression.

“If you want me to help you cover up your bruise, I can. I have the makeup, so it’s doable.” She smiled at him, taking a sip of tea before continuing, “Or if you want to leave it alone you can, show them that you aren’t defined by what happened to you.” Whatever you want, I can help you make it look wonderful.

Newt frowned for a few seconds before he wrote something down and frowned. _I just want to know what’s going on._

He frowned when he saw Lydia wince at that statement, bringing her cup of tea up and sipping it far too quickly to be considered normal.

He returned to his sketchbook, taking up a whole page for his next question, _WHAT?_

Lydia shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s not my story to tell, but I promise you, as soon as Scott gets back, hopefully with Thomas, he’ll let you know everything that you need to know.”

Newt would have groaned, but as always, his throat prevented it. Instead he sipped at his tea, before turning away from Lydia and beginning to play with the coyote.

Lydia followed him to the floor, staying a but further away from the strangely docile wild animal. She laid one hand on Newt’s shoulder blade before she began to speak again, “I’m not happy about it either, I remember the time a spent an entire year feeling like the world was going insane and I could do nothing about it. And I know what’s going on now, but honestly, I’d only make it worse if I tried to explain it. I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, before continuing in her questioning, “So, when did you first say that you loved each other?”

They were interrupted by the exhausted form of Noah entering the house, the question forgotten when both Newt and Lydia saw that he was emptyhanded. “Scott’s still looking, so are most of the lacrosse team actually, but he’s not anywhere I looked.” He brushed his hand over his face, wiping the sweat off of his brow. “You should go back to bed Newt, there’s no point in you being completely exhausted at school tomorrow.”

Newt nodded, turning to Lydia and waving at her exhaustedly. He stood up, heading towards the staircase, turning back only when he heard Noah’s voice.

“We’ll find him, Newt I promise you.” Noah smiled weakly, in the fake way that Newt had become accustomed to and hated. Newt couldn’t bring himself to smile back, instead nodding tiredly and heading up towards his bedroom.

He was again stopped, this time by the voice of Lydia. Newt waited for her while she walked over to the banister, the russet haired youth kneeling down when she reached a hand through the gaps between the banister. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow Newt, be ready by 8:30,” she smiled, “We want to make an impression. Bye Newt.”

Newt nodded, smiling slightly this time before he returned to his and Thomas’ bedroom. He looked at the bedroom clock, groaning when he saw that it would be 4am in only a few minutes.

Looked like Sunday was going to be a wash then.

* * *

Monday rolled around faster than Newt would have liked. He woke early, with the sun, and spent the time between breakfast and Lydia arriving playing with the coyote. At some point over the weekend Noah had bought it a leash, and now Newt was trying to put it on without getting his hand bitten off. It took quite a while, but eventually, he managed to get the collar on, which Newt considered a victory even if it meant that he was being bombarded with puppy-dog-eyes.

He pulled a scarf around his neck, waiting out the front with the coyote. A few neighbours looked at him curiously, but no one paid him attention for more than a few seconds, so he managed to relax. It only took a few minutes after he set foot outside the house for Lydia to arrive, driving what looked to be a very expensive car.

Newt couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw Lydia do a double take when she saw the coyote. He walked forward, even when she groaned at him, her perfectly maintained eyebrows raised in a mix of horror and resignation. “Seriously?” She turned to Newt as he picked the coyote up and put it in the back seat, sighing in exasperation, “Tell it not to scratch the leather seats.”

Newt smiled widely as he got into the passenger seat. He pulled his bag onto his lap, waiting for Lydia to set off. Instead, he found her looking at him, her expression indecipherable. He shrugged, hoping that she would answer his unasked question.

“You’re stronger than you think that you are,” she sighed, smiling ruefully, “When I was going through a tough time I needed someone to tell me that, and no-one did. I don’t want you to have the same issue.” Lydia put the car into drive, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

Beacon Hills’ High School seemed so much more difficult to enter without Thomas at Newt’s side. Minho, his only other possible source of comfort, wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity, leaving Newt with only a coyote and a formidable strawberry-blonde to provide moral support as he entered the dull brick building.

The majority of the student body gave Newt a wide berth. Whether that was a result of the coyote or Lydia, Newt had no idea. While it was true that people flinched back when they saw the well groomed wild animal, fear only seeped into their eyes when they made eye contact with Lydia. Despite the stressful circumstances, Newt smiled. He had the best friends.

Economics was the first class of the day, Newt forgoing his locker, instead carrying everything he needed for the day in his backpack. He smiled when he saw Minho waiting for him outside the classroom, his oldest friend rushing towards him when their eyes locked.

“Oh God, Newt, I was so worried about you!” the dark eyed boy hugged him, “My mom heard about you and Thomas from some of her friends, I was worried that you were going to be in the hospital or something awful like that.” He took a step back, only now noticing the coyote. He took a step back, looking at Newt with something approaching awe. “And now you have a coyote!” He smiled.

Newt smiled too, it was nice to see that outside of the misery that had been their lives before their escape, Minho was actually an extraordinarily happy person.

Coach arrived at that moment, cutting the admittedly one-sided conversation short as he reacted to the coyote with pure horror.

“Dear God, Wilcox! Why do you have a rabid animal in a school environment?!”

Newt shrugged, walking into the classroom, and taking a seat at the front row. It took a few minutes, but eventually the class began, and was practically indistinguishable from any other economics lesson, aside from Coach’s uneasy glances at the floor every few minutes.

The rest of the day passed in pretty much the same manner, with the exception of Newt’s art class, where the coyote became the subject for the rest of the class’ animal studies.

(She was obviously pleased, falling asleep in the prop wheel-barrow nearly immediately, and whining slightly when she was picked up by Newt so that he could go to the cafeteria for lunch.)

Lunch, really, was where everything fell to pieces. Because, there, sitting right next to Scott on one of the cheap plastic tables, was Thomas.

Newt froze, taking a few step backs when the familiar whiskey coloured eyes met his. He took a few more when Thomas stood up, and left the cafeteria completely when it became apparent that Thomas was going to talk to him whether he wanted to or not. He rushed into the corridors, searching desperately for his locker, even as he heard Thomas’ footsteps catching up.

He stopped in front of his locker, refusing to turn around even when he felt the familiar and once-comforting touch of Thomas’ hand against his back.

“Newt, I need to talk to you.” Newt closed his eyes as Thomas stepped around him, leaning against one of the adjacent lockers. “Please, please, I need to talk you.”

Newt finally pulled his locker open, pushing his bag into it. He pulled out his art supplies, opening his visual art diary to a blank page, and scribbling on it with one of his charcoal pencils. He took a deep breath, looking over his writing before he turned to Thomas, finally opening his eyes and looking at the other youth when he presented his diary to the brunet.

_You’re scaring me Thomas._

Thomas nodded, taking a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. He took a deep breath, nodding again for a few seconds before he began to talk. “I know that it isn’t enough, but I promise you Newt, I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I will do everything in my power, even if it kills me, to make sure that never happens to you again.” He put his hands down, his eyes widening as he realised something. “What’s wrong with your voice Newt? What happened?”

Newt shuddered, leaning forward to take his journal from Thomas, briefly considering writing his response before he realised that this was a case where showing was infinitely better than telling. He handed back the journal, holding up a hand when he saw that Thomas was about to complain. Newt began to unravel the scarf around his neck, finally pulling it off when there was no danger of being strangled by it.

For a few seconds, both of the ill fated lovers stood in silence, the only sound in the corridor being their deep breaths. Newt closed his eyes again, trying to keep his breathing under control, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do that if he was watching the love of his life react to something that neither of them had control over.

“Newt, oh, my darling, I’m so sorry.”

Newt opened his eyes at Thomas’ statement, his valiant attempt at not crying failing when he saw that Thomas was openly crying. He reached for his sketchbook, writing a few words before handing it to Thomas.

_What happened? I’m so scared. Why didn’t you come home?_

Thomas nodded, wiping his eyes furiously, and clearing his throat before he began to talk. “There’s something in me Newt, and I don’t know where it came from, but it’s dangerous.” He grimaced, looking down at his feet for a few seconds before he continued, “And while it’s in me, I can’t come home, especially now that, that I’ve seen what happened to you. Scott found me yesterday, and I just knew, that there was something wrong, that I couldn’t go home. I’m so sorry Newt, I’m so fucking sorry.” Thomas stepped forward, stopping just shy of touching him.

Newt began to write again.

_So why are you talking to me now?_

“I couldn’t leave you without any sort of explanation. I love you too much to do that to you. I’ve got control of it now, but I don’t think it’s permanent.”

_So now what?_

Thomas reached forward, placing one hand on the side of Newt’s face, and smiling at him through the tears. “I’m going to go now, after school, Scott says he knows someone who can figure this shit out for me, but until he does I can’t be near you. But I want you to remember something for me, okay?”

Newt nodded, bringing a hand up to cover Tommy’s.

“I love you so much. Remember when you said that you would do everything over again? Well I would do every single thing, even the stupid, painful ones, if it meant that I got to be with you. I love you so much.” Thomas took a step back. “And when I figure this out, I swear to you I’m going to come back, and we’re going to have the life that we deserve.”

Newt nodded, closing his eyes and smiling sadly when he felt Thomas kiss his cheek.

He kept his eyes closed even as he heard Thomas walk away and back to the cafeteria. He kept his eyes closed as he slid down his locker and curled around his legs. He kept his eyes closed as the coyote draped itself over his legs and began to lick at his face.

Newt only opened his eyes when he heard the characteristic click-clack of Lydia’s designer high heels heading towards him. He looked up at her, suddenly aware of the snot that was running out of his nose, and that he probably looked disgusting.

As usual, she smiled beatifically at him.

“You know, me and Allison are going to the mall after school today, there’s an ice-cream place.”

Newt nodded, opening his journal, and beginning to write on a blank page.

_I am stronger than I think I am._

He held it up to Lydia, who nodded, holding a hand for him to take.

“Damn Right.”

Newt nodded, taking the hand and pulling himself up off of the ground.


	15. I would follow you...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's hope at the end of a lot of suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys,
> 
> It has been a while, I'm really sorry, lots of stuff has been happening. I've decided that I'm going to try to adhere to a weekly update schedule for the next month and a half, and then see where to go from there.
> 
> There might occasionally be an additional chapter once in a while, but I can't make any promises.

Newt came to school the next day with a renewed sense of purpose. Convinced that everything which had happened to him and Tommy in the godforsaken town of Beacon Hills had something to do with Scott McCall, he had planned exactly how he was going to confront the other student.

All the plan needed was the help of Minho, because trying to threaten people by writing angrily in a visual art diary was not going to cut it.

He found his oldest friend in the world waiting for him in the school carpark, sitting with his sister on top of the trunk of their ridiculously oversized car. They both smiled at him, though there was something behind their genial expressions which unsettled Newt. They knew something, Newt could tell.

There was no time to pull out his sketchbook to be able to ask them what they were hiding, so Newt let the issue drop. He knew that if Minho was keeping something from him, there would be good reason for it, and that it wouldn’t be something that could hurt him. Instead he focussed on the matter at hand; convincing Lydia to be his voice.

He walked through the halls, striding towards his art classroom with the sort of confidence which only a coyote could bring. He found Lydia sitting at her easel, the sole person in the room.

The strawberry blonde smiled at him, nodding at him to sit beside her. “I’m sorry that Thomas is gone.” She looked down at her collection of pastels, choosing a soft pink colour to draw her rose. “Scott hasn’t told me if I can tell you about what’s going on or not yet.”

Newt shrugged, sitting next to her at his own easel, scratching behind the coyote’s ears before beginning to sketch with his own pastels, electing to start with the oft-forgotten roots or the rosebush that was sitting in a large glass vase. He turned to Lydia, moving his hands to get her attention.

She turned, frowning at him, “Newt, I’m not allowed to tell you, I have to listen to the people who are actually affected by this.” She frowned again as Newt shook his head gesturing at his throat, and then at her again. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Newt.”

Newt sighed as much as he could. He pulled his visual art diary out of his bag, flicking to one of the increasingly hard to find blank pages in it. He began to scribble in it, underlining his script before he handed it over to Lydia.

_I don’t you to tell me anything, I just need you to be voice._

“Why does this sound like a terrifying idea?”

Newt snorted, taking back the diary. _I’ll write everything you need to say, and then you say it to Scott. I need to know what’s happening to Tommy, and I want to help him._

Lydia sighed, “Newt I’m not sure you can understand the magnitude of what’s going on right now.”

_I don’t care about the magnitude. I don’t care about anything, except for the fact that the person I love is in trouble. I am going to help, even if Minho has to hit Scott for me to do it._

Lydia smiled, and nodded her approval. “Okay. I’ll help you then.”

The teacher and most of the class entered at that point, leaving Newt and Lydia to actually focus on their artwork.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent much in the same way that the previous days had been spent. Newt focussed on his work as much as he was able, but a niggling sensation in his gut made him feel as though even the most practical of the economic theories in the world wasn’t going to serve him in the life he saw ahead of him.

* * *

He found Lydia waiting by his locker shortly after the bell rang, the strawberry blonde looking at him with determination. They were going to do this, even if it meant exile from whatever social group Scott had built up around himself.

The strange duo walked to the front of the school, where they found Scott surrounded by a veritable pantheon of people, students and adults alike. For a moment, Newt froze, slightly intimidated by the sheer mass of people. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and forced himself to walk forward, until he was standing right before Scott.

“Lydia said that you wanted to talk to me.” The tanned boy looked behind himself, smiling slightly, “So, talk to me.” His flippant tone gave Newt the impression the boy was not taking him seriously.

Newt grinned wryly, pulling his art diary from his bag and handing it to Lydia, who stepped forward, opening it to a dog-eared page and beginning to read. “I know that there’s something wrong with Thomas, and I know you know something about it. So you’re going to tell me everything.”

Scott snorted, “Or what Newt?”

Newt gestured for Lydia to begin reading again, “Or Minho will personally make your life a living hell. Trust me, he knows how to do it, I’ve lived with him for 3 years.”

Newt smiled, his teeth on show in a way that many gladers had said made him look like a hungry wolf. He embraced that rarely seen side of himself now, nudging the coyote forward enough that it made Scott take a step back.

There would be time for gentleness and friendship later, when the terror in his life had been extinguished. For now, he was called upon to be a warrior, and so he would be.

Scott nodded, stepping forward and kneeling in front of the coyote. He looked it straight in the eye, and for a moment Newt thought himself trapped in a dream when he saw the other boy’s eyes glow a clear, unnatural shade of red. He knew himself to be awake when the boy shifted his head to look up at Newt, and there was no change in the colour of his eyes.

“The truth is Newt,” the boy began softly, his tone filled with a previously absent gravitas, “despite what anyone may have told you, monsters a real. And there’s one in Thomas.”

Newt kneeled, staring Scott straight in the face. He took a moment, weighing the potential risks in his mind before he replied in his own voice, “I’m going to need much more detail than that, Scott.”

Scott’s eyes widened, and he stared in shock for a moment before he nodded. “Why don’t we go back to my place? This isn’t really the place for a long conversation.”

* * *

Minho frowned when shortly after arriving home from school, he saw a text from Newt, telling him to go to a particular address as soon as he was able.

For a minute he stood at the kitchen table, debating whether or not he should go. His mind was still reeling from the revelations that his parents had shown him a previous night.

_Minho had known something strange was afoot when he and Kira had been called down from their rooms while they were studying. It was not something normally done in the household, Noshiko and Ken very insistent upon their children fully applying their impressive intellects to whatever task was placed before them. As such, they were normally encouraged to study for a few hours every night, provided that they had nothing else more important to do._

_He had arrived downstairs at roughly the same time as his sister, both of them entering the living room at the same time. Generally speaking, at least to Minho’s mind, in time of uncertainty, it was a good idea to present a united front. The two wordlessly walked forward together, sitting side by side on the same couch, staring their parents down._

_It seemed Noshiko had prepared something, holding on old and weathered box on her lap. She smiled at her children before she took the top off of it, and took out a sepia toned picture. She handed it to Kira, waiting until her daughter had taken it before she spoke._

_“What do you see Kira?” Both of the children looked at it, a picture of a young woman, her hair pinned in victory curls, who looked very much like Kira herself. She stood in front of a chain-link fence, the dress she wore pinning the time to be around the early 40s._

_Kira shrugged, scrutinising the 4’ by 6’ before looking up at her mother, “Is it my grandmother? It looks like it’s around the same time period.” She handed it back to her mother frowning, “Mom, what does this have to do with anything?”_

_Noshiko sighed, pulling out another picture, this time a daguerreotype, the resolution hazy. Minho and Kira poured over it, looking past the low picture quality to examine the figure contained within. Again, they saw a young woman, and if time had not forbidden it, both would have said she was the same woman from the previous photograph. Her hair was different, styled in the way only seen for brides at their weddings, her clothing reflecting this. This time she sat at a table, her arm gracefully arranged so that she could show off the detail upon her sleeve. Noshiko cleared her throat slightly, both of her children lifting their heads to look at her._

_“And this one?”_

_Minho shook his head, frowning slightly at his mother. “She looks almost exactly the same. Mom, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling us here?”_

_Noshiko sighed again, pulling out a picture which had been painted, rather than captured with light and machinery. Again, the same woman was in the centre, this time surrounded by all of the finery to be expected of a Japanese noble of the 1600s. while all of the stylisation of the period was present, in the details it was unmistakeably the same woman.  Minho and Kira looked up at their mother, both clearly confused._

_“Before you ask, it’s the same woman, in all of the pictures.”_

_Minho frowned, the skin between his eyebrows creasing as he tried to think of how to respond to his mother’s claim. “Mom, that’s not possible.”_

_“I know,” Noshiko sighed, taking back the picture and smiling at it sadly, “By most estimations, it would be. And if there was any sense to the world, we would not be having this conversation, but unfortunately, there are things that you need to know about this family.” She took a deep breath, and looked at her children, “Our family does not follow the normal rules, and it’s time for you to understand what that means.”_

_Minho remained baffled as he watched his mother stand, closing her eyes as she raised her arms. Suddenly wind began to run through the house, even though all of the doors and windows were closed. He looked around watching in an equal mix of horror and awe as he felt the fabric of his shirt begin to ruffle and heard the light fittings clink. And just as the heavens began to fall, it stopped._

_Noshiko lowered her arms, smiling at her children, tears in her eyes as the violent motion ceased._

_"And this is just the beginning.”_

Minho roused himself from his thoughts. Newt was his friend, the only one who had consistently and without fail put his own problems to the side to help others. His loyalty deserved to be rewarded. Minho walked though the halls of the school, waiting for his sister outside of their car before he briefed her about the situation.

While he knew that Kira was a kind and generous person, his surprise was still strong when she simply nodded her head, and demanded to accompany him to the provided address.

“For all you know, this might be a murder house,” she smiled at him as she pulled her seatbelt on, “and there’s no situation where a girl who can make lightning with her mind is an unwelcome addition.” She laughed slightly, “Though, Mom did say that if you’re stressed your powers might show up.” She smiled sympathetically, “It’ll happen eventually.”

Minho shrugged as he put the car into gear, pulling out of the school’s parking lot. “She said it was rarer in men, for all I know I’m going to stay all boring for the rest of my life.” He grimaced, “Anyway, that’s not something that we need to think about now. Newt needs us. Lets just focus upon that.”

In his peripheral vision he could see Kira frowning, the process of her cognitive machinery clear upon her face. Just when it seemed that she was going to push further, her face relaxing as she leaned back into her seat. “So, you know, you haven’t said why you and Thomas always seem so protective of Newt.”

Minho stiffened.

“I know that something happened, but you haven’t told me what.” Kira shrugged, “I want to know.”

Minho sighed, taking a few breaths before he began to answer. “I was the one who found him.” He rubbed his eyes as they stopped at a red light, gathering his thoughts, only beginning to answer his sister when the light turned green. “It was before Thomas, but not by too much. You know, the more that I look back at it, the more I think that it was the beginning of the end. We’d finally explored all of the sections of the maze. And before, we had been so excited that we were nearly there, that we were going to get out.” He stopped.

Kira picked up the implication of his words. “But, you didn’t. And then?”

Minho nodded, his voice thick with emotion, “At first I thought that Newt was okay, he just seemed so blasé about it, like it was nothing.” He cleared his throat, “So I focussed on the people who seemed the most cut about it, and he just disappeared. We didn’t notice until a few hours later. So me and Alby, we went into the maze. We looked for him. And we found him. Just not the way we wanted to.”

Kira nodded, looking at her brother, the realisation clear upon her face.

“He’d fallen from the top of one of the highest parts of the wall. Jumped, and I still don’t quite understand how he survived.”

“And that’s why he limps?” Kira exhaled as Minho nodded, “I’m sorry, for making you live this over again. But I needed to know, so now I can help.”

Minho nodded, parallel parking opposite the address Newt had given him. He and Kira got out of the car, walking side-by-side towards the house, their pace increasing as they saw Newt open the door.

“Newt, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Minho exclaimed as they reached the door, pulling Newt in for a hug before he entered. “Shit dude, I forgot about the throat, you don’t have to answer that, it’s okay.” He squeezed Newt tightly again before he entered the house, letting the russet-haired youth guide him to the living room, where all of Scott’s group was sitting.

He saw Kira blush when she saw Scott. He’d have to address that later.

For now, he was going to focus upon whatever Newt needed him to.

Needless to say, he was slightly surprised when Scott stood, walking forward as his eyes flashed an unnatural shade of red.

“So, werewolves exist.”

* * *

Far across the town, Thomas sat in his truck, looking over a photo his father had taken many years before. It showed a happy family; father, mother, and son sitting at a table, a highly decorated birthday cake sitting before the three of them as they smiled.

He wished that he could have smiled at the photo, but he knew what had happened afterwards. Within a few years, the mother had died, her brain rotting away far earlier than it should have, leaving a devastated father and son behind. Thomas sighed, while the emotion was there, he still could not remember her, the vibrant spark of life which had been Claudia Stilinski.

A few years after that, the smiling boy had been stolen from his home.

Thomas looked up from the photo, staring at the sun as it began to dip below the distant horizon. It would have been beautiful to watch with Newt by his side, the orange glow of the sun reflecting pink and blue light upon the clouds.

So beautiful a sight for so terrible a day. He shuddered as he felt the thing which haunted him creep its way into his mind again. The pain of the black inky mass which moved throughout his consciousness was indescribable, alternating freezing and burning until he could feel neither, and only wished for the sweet release of unconsciousness.

He found no such solace, his eyes opening as the thing completely took control of his motor functions. All of the beauty had been stripped from the scene, the colours which had once been breathtaking now menacing as they glowed with a supernatural tint which he was sure was there as a result of the thing.

He jerked to the side as he felt someone get into the truck next to him. It seemed that both he and the thing had not been expecting the ultimately unassuming looking man. The stranger seemed to exude a sense of calm, his smile pleasant and reassuring even as he pulled out a pair of sterile gloves.

The thing began to react, “Who the fuck are you?”

The man smiled, pulling out a vial and a needle. “I suppose that is a fair question, My nme is Alan Deaton, I’m a vet.” He drew the liquid from the vial up into the needle, “I’m also what is known colloquially as a druid, and it’s my job to protect this town.” He pulled the needle out of the vial, stabbing it into Thomas’ thigh.

Thomas exhaled, looking down at the needle in shock. He smiled as he felt the blackness receding from his mind, the proper colours of the world returning to him.

“Thank you.” Tears came to his eyes as he felt his vision begin to blur around the edges. He collapsed forward, finding himself held in place by Deaton.

“It’s going to be okay Thomas, I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”

 Thomas nodded, falling backwards in his seat as his vision faded to black.


	16. Ain't no rest for the wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late. I've been sick.

Scott was halfway through explaining the subtle differences between the werewolves and were-coyotes to Newt, and by extension explaining why he thought Newt’s inseparable animal companion was actually a human trapped in the form of a coyote. He could feel his phone beginning to buzz, and decided it would be easier to answer it now than hear the annoying sound throughout the rest of the evening.

He pulled it out of his pocket, his eyes widening when he saw it was Deaton calling. Surely he hadn’t missed a shift at work? He answered it, panic already beginning to seep into his voice.

“Deaton? Have I missed a shift, because I checked my roster this morning, and I didn’t have a shift?”

His boss chuckled lightly on the other end of the line, his voice light in a way that suggested the world was quite going to explode yet, “No Scott, but I do need you to come to the clinic, I think I might have the beginning of a solution for you.”

Scott frowned, his gaze turning to Newt, “What sort of a solution?” He continued to stare at Newt, the russet haired youth not noticing his gaze, too focussed upon staring the coyote in the eyes. “Is it something to do with, you know?”

Deaton made a crackly non-committal noise from the other side of the line. “Bring Newt with you, he might be able to help.”

Scott nodded, hanging up the phone and then walking towards Newt. The youth looked up at him, his small smile dropping when he saw the look on Scott’s face. He held up a hand, pulling his sketchbook from his bag and scribbling upon it for a few seconds before holding it out to Scott.

_What’s happened?_

Scott smiled, “I don’t think that it’s anything bad, but I need you to come with me, to my boss’ clinic. He says that it’s something important.”

Newt stood, holding his hand out for Minho not to follow. Scott knew that he probably never would be able to understand the complexity of the relationship between them, but even he could understand that Newt was telling his friend that he would be alright.

Newt nodded, and then followed Scott out of the house, watching the other youth out of the corner of his eye while he puts an obviously borrowed car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

“You know, Stiles never really had anyone, on a romantic level.” Newt turned to face Scott fully, staring warily at him. “Not that he didn’t want to, but I think that there never really was anybody that appreciated him properly, every one was either too aggressive or too self-serving.” Scott smiled at him, taking his eyes off the road as he stopped at a red light.

Newt grunted, responding as best he could without hurting his strained vocal chords anymore than they already had been earlier. He brought a hand to his throat, rubbing at the skin there in a futile attempt to soothe the bruised and stiff muscles and slightly warped cartilage of his trachea.

“And I know things have changed, with everything you too have gone through,” Scott grunted slightly as the light went green and he accelerated forward slightly, “But, it’s different with you. For the first time, I’m not worried about him getting hurt, or cast aside. So, thank you.”

Scott stopped the car out the front of an animal clinic, jumping out of the car at the same time as Newt, walking in front of the mostly silent youth as they approached and entered the small, unassuming building. He smiled briefly at Newt when a shortish dark-skinned man came out to the reception area.

Newt still felt wary, but he refrained from running away out of a newfound sense of loyalty to Scott. He seemed to have a reasonable head upon his shoulders, despite the whole werewolf thing.

“Hello Scott, Newt.” The man smiled gesturing for them to follow him to the back, “It’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise, in fact, it’s a good thing. Great even.” He paused before fully opening the back’s door, “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Deaton, Alan Deaton.”

He opened the door and stood to the side as Newt pushed past him to stand next to the examination table.

The examination table where Thomas was currently lying unconscious.

Newt paused a few inches away from Thomas’s side, his hand hovering over the other youth’s hand. He looked back at Deaton, hoping that his expression portrayed his complete and utter confusion.

“I found him on the edge of town,” Deaton began to explain, smiling sadly as he stepped forward, stopping just short of Newt. “I’ve given him a solution made out of a very special type of moss. It’s keeping the nogitsune in him subdued, but only temporarily.” He looked Newt straight in the eyes, his smile disappearing, replaced by a serious look. “It’s not a sustainable solution, it’s too poisonous to use on a regular basis, but it should be enough of you want to speak to him now.”

Newt nodded, sitting next to Thomas on a cold steel chair. He smiled as Thomas’s eyes fluttered opening, tears coming to his eyes as the brunet smiled at him.

“Hey Newt.” Thomas coughed, “My darling, I’m so sorry.” He smiled weakly, his eyes fixed on Newt.

Newt shook his head, taking Thomas’ hands in his own and bringing them to his lips.

“I love you so much, you need to know that, before I say anything else.” Thomas whispered his voice evidently hoarse from the prolonged sleep. “Are you talking yet?”

Newt contemplated for a few seconds, shaking his head as he evaluated the pain that still flared through his throat with every deep breath. Instead he kissed Thomas’ hand again, entwining their fingers together before looking Thomas in the eye.

“Newt, oh, my darling, I’m so sorry that this happened to you, to us. But we’re going to fix it. So I need you to be okay, because we’re going to be okay.” He winced, “Oh God, my head!”

Newt stood, looking back at Deaton with fear in his eyes. He gestured helplessly at Thomas, both of their eyes blown wide with a mix of fear and worry.

“It’s a consequence of the moss, I’m sorry. It’s why it’s not a viable long term solution. It’s okay Newt, it’s painful, but we’ll get him through.”

Newt nodded, kneeling by Thomas’ side again. The brunet smiled, looking at Newt once again. “I don’t want to stay here after this is over. I don’t care about school anymore, I just want to be with you.” He reached out with one hand, the fingers trailing weakly against Newt’s cheeks.

Newt huffed, shaking his head, one eyebrow raised in question.

Thomas laughed weakly, “I’ve been thinking, when I can, when _it’s_ gone,” he licked his lips, Newt only now noticing how dry and broken they were. “You know, there’s plenty of farmland in Canada. You don’t need a high school diploma for that. Or there’s trawling for crabs, off the coast. I mean if you want to finish, we can, but I’m just saying that in the time that we’ve been here, we’ve been attacked more times than all of the time we were in the maze, the scorch and the city combined. I think that it’s time to find somewhere nice and get away from all this bullshit.”

Newt snorted, maybe it would be a good idea to go for a GED somewhere else. He looked back at Scott and Deaton briefly, finding that while the latter was unreadable, Scott looked positively distraught. Newt repressed the urge to placate, to compromise, choosing to be selfish for once. He faced Thomas once again, smiling and nodding his assent at the idea. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain that was soon to come.

“Canada sounds good.” He coughed roughly, covering his mouth with his elbow. From the corner of his eye he could see Thomas looking at him with concern. He held up a hand, smiling at Thomas once the coughing had subsided.

“Okay.” Thomas grimaced in pain, opening his eyes after a few seconds and looking directly at Deaton with fearful eyes. “It’s coming back. Deaton, get him out of here, it’s coming back.”

Newt felt himself being pulled back into the front of the building by Scott, watching in horror as Deaton strapped Thomas down to the examination table. He felt rather than saw the rest of Scott’s friends moving around him as he was placed down on one of the chairs in the waiting area. Thomas, his Thomas had been so close to being fine, and now he was back to being tormented by the malevolent force which had harassed them since…

Since they’d spent that night on the tree.

Newt looked up, catching the eye of Lydia. he gestured frantically, suddenly aware of the lack of his backpack, and the need to communicate without being in excruciating pain after every sentence.

Lydia nodded at him, walking up to Scott and placing a hand on his arm. “Newt needs his sketchbook to talk, is it in your car still?”

Scott shook his head, “Look, Lydia it’s a miracle that he hasn’t filled up all of the pages in that. I’ve got something better.” He reached behind the counter and pulled out a small whiteboard with a marker hanging from a string attached to it. “We normally use this to put on the cages of overnight patients, but it should work for you too.” The boy smiled at Newt, and the russet haired youth was reminded of the friends that Thomas had left behind in Beacon Hills when he was taken. Would it really be fair to take Thomas away from him? For a moment, Newt was stuck in a moral conundrum unlike anything he’d experienced before.

And then he heard an almost demonic sounding scream coming from the back and he was reminded that he was stuck in a town with fucking demonic forces.

He was definitely going to Canada with Thomas as soon as all of this was resolved.

Newt shook himself out of his reverie just as he saw Lydia walk out into the carpark, clearly deciding to go get Newt’s backpack even if it wasn’t going to be used, and took the board. He pulled the cap off of the marker with his teeth, before beginning to write on the smooth surface.

_How are you going to fix this?_

Scott looked taken aback, his face going slack temporarily, his mind coming on board a few seconds after he saw the writing.

“We’re working on it, Deaton is researching, and I’ve been connecting with all of the other werewolf packs, we’re just missing something.”

Newt grunted, knowing that this wasn’t something that could be fixed easily.

Then the door opened, and Minho and Kira walked in, their mother walking behind them. Newt smiled, not entirely sure exactly why he was filled with a sense of reassurance, only knowing that the look on Noshiko’s face was one that was identical to Minho’s particularly smug grin seen only after tackling WCKD goons. Newt felt the joy bubble up inside him.

The matriarch of the Yukimura clan stepped forward, standing directly in front of Scott. She smiled, “Oh little one, there is so much that you don’t understand yet.”

She turned to Newt, taking the few steps towards him to sit down next to him on a vacant plastic chair. She took hold of his hands, looking down and sighing sadly before she began to speak.

“Let me tell you a story.” She took a deep breath, tears clearly coming to her eyes and threatening to spill over even as she steeled herself to begin to speak.

_It had happened in the time which stubbornly refused to be either long ago or recent. The sight of a woman’s ankle was no longer scandalous, but they were still expected to cook and clean for the men in their life. It was appropriate that in a time of such strange transition during a time of war, a strange creature had been born of strife and violence._

_These were the last days that Noshiko could get away with calling herself a girl, the youthful façade which had served her well for centuries beginning to show the signs of aging. At the time, she had felt petulant about it, worried that with the loss of her girlish appearance people would question her playful nature and seek deeper answers which would be her undoing._

_It wasn’t her fault that she was a kitsune, and that everything she embodied required a sense of playfulness to exist. Even in this dark place, where she and others were held against their will for the apparent crime of having emigrated from another country which was now at war with them, there was some small amount of joy to be had. They were imprisoned, yes, but not despondent._

_And there was love, beautiful, shining, radiant love. And it seemed that it was there just for her. His name was Reese, and he was good and kind, even if he was one of her jailer, and he loved her. He loved her with every breath he took, with every beat of his all too human heart._

_He had loved her until the day he had died, and the spirit which had come from his burning body had, in its own twisted and utterly malevolent way, loved her too._

_After all, to the mind of a psychopathic creature borne of chaos and strife and pain, was there any expression of love more profound than massacring a garrison?_

_The effects of age had become more apparent after Reese’s death, when she had found herself locked in battle with the monster which had erupted from Reese’s body, wearing a distorted and cruel version of his face._

_It had been a dark night, no moon there to illuminate them as they fought in the rain, both of them using swords to defend and attack themselves. While she may have had centuries more experience, he made up for his lack of experience with sheer, vicious ferocity. For every carefully constructed move she made, she was pushed back by his brutal attacks._

_She knew that this was not a fight she could win without massive harm to herself. So, after a brief lull in the fighting, she reached into her pocket, pulled out one of her tails, and snapped it._

_The creature which she brought forth matched the nogitsune’s ferocity, its movement nearly as smooth and coordinated as her own. It turned the course of the battle, and when they had cornered the creature against the tree stump, they were finally able to exorcise it from Reese’s body. She thought, just maybe that there had been some sort of gratefull glint in his eyes as his now dead body slumped to the ground, black viscous ooze leaking from his mouth and flowing towards the stump of a freshly cut tree._

_She had helped to do it once, and now she was going to do it again._

* * *

How strange it must be to be human, the thing thought, looking down with borrowed eyes at the shackles which restrained the human body it was inhabiting to the examination table of a dodgy little veterinarians. It snorted, resisting the urge to laugh at the slap-dash nature of the restraints.

It was funny, that they thought that it could be contained to such a pathetic prison for long. It could hear the sound of a familiar voice in the waiting room, the voice of someone it had once loved resonating clearly through the walls as she recounted the story of how it had been created.

That sword-fight had been such a thrill, at least until the little minx had begun to cheat, and brought in the Oni to fight it. Really, if it had been allowed to fight according to the rules of fair combat, it would never have been trapped, and it would have been brought the world to its knees with the pain it could have brought down upon every person living on the planet.

It strained against the handcuffs, twisting its borrowed lips into a horrifying grimace which barely resembled a smile. It could escape this prison, just as it had escaped the confines of the Nemeton by way of two very stupid, yet in love youths. This time though, it wasn’t going to be alone, deciding that the main thing which had let it down most when Deaton had captured it was the lack of company.

Now it just had to choose who. Newt was an obvious choice, but with the connection between Minho and Noshiko, it seemed that it might be too much of a risk. It was a shame, it had been so much fun to visit all of the horrors that it could muster upon the russet haired youth.

It would have to be one of Scott’s friends then, a bit of a disappointment considering how boring the pathetic werewolf seemed to be. There was no doubt his friends would be as dull.

It closed its eyes, taking a deep breath before it broke the first manacle, there was no doubt that the multitude of supernatural creatures would have heard that, but it didn’t mind. After all, it adored the chaos that a good bloodbath brought. It took another breath, breaking the next manacle with very little effort.

It propelled itself off of the bench, smiling as pushed one of the windows open. While he would have loved to get into a fight, it realised that now was neither the time nor the place, not when there was an experienced kitsune in the vicinity.

It slipped into the carpark, smiling as it saw the strawberry blonde friend of Newt standing in the carpark.

Today wouldn’t be a complete loss after all.


	17. Love of mine, one day you will die...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still kinda sick, so bear with the wildly fluctuating update schedule. The good news is that we're near the end, I think only two more chapters of main plot after this, and then a nice epilogue to finish off.
> 
> The title is from Death Cab for Cutie's "I'll follow you into the dark".
> 
> Also, Happy Ramadan

Newt stood in front of the now empty examination table, finding himself, as was increasingly common in this time, bereft. He pulled one hand across his face, sighing softly as he looked around the empty room.

He went back to the waiting room, where the whole groups was standing, but for Lydia.

It had been her scream from the parking lot which had tipped Scott’s group off, the pack heading outdoors to find only one of her shoes left behind, while Newt had walked into the back.

He knelt by the side of the examination bench, a rueful smile on his face as he picked up a piece of ripped fabric, a piece of Thomas’ shirt which had caught on one of the nails holding the metal structure together. He should have known better than to hope by now, and yet he still had fallen into that oh so enticing trap. He stilled as he felt, rather than heard, Scott’s entrance into the room.

“He’s gone, Newt, I’m sorry.” The darker skinned youth walked forward, offering a hand for Newt to take as he stood. “But, we’ve got plans, and apparently your friends’ mom knows what’s going on, so don’t panic okay?”

Newt resisted the urge to scoff at the sentiment, knowing that the werewolf leader was trying his best. He settled for looking deep into the other boy’s eyes, his face unmoving as Scott tried and failed to come up with something else to say to him. After half a minute he walked past the boy, whistling for the Coyote to jump off of the seat she had been sleeping on and join him as he walked outside.

For a place where a heinous kidnapping had just been committed, the carpark was surprisingly innocuous. Newt pulled out his phone, a basic thing that Noah had insisted he take, and sent out a text for the Sheriff to come and take him home, or to the station, whichever one was further away from the other people.

He startled as Minho walked out of the vet’s office, saying nothing as he approached and then stood next to Newt. He was grateful, not knowing how he was supposed to respond to anything Minho said now that his sketchbook was missing with Lydia. Instead of any attempt at conversation, Newt let himself relax as Minho wrapped one arm around his shoulders, both of them having gone through enough shitty days to have gotten this routine down to a fine art. They stood like that until the Sheriff’s car had rolled up to the vet’s.

Noah got out of the car, taking the Coyote’s leash from Newt as he helped her up into the back seat. After he’d finished arranging a blanket around her so that everything was covered except for the tip of her nose, the tired man turned back to Newt, opening the passenger seat for him, making it clear that their departure didn’t have to be dramatic, or overwrought.

Newt smiled, pulling his jacket tighter around himself as Noah began to drive.

“Now, I know this sucks, but I have to work. I can drop you at home if you want, but if I was you, I wouldn’t want to be alone right now.” Noah smiled at him, taking his eyes off of the road for a second to assess Newt. “And there’s an empty desk at the station, so why don’t you study there until I’m done for the day and we’ll go have burgers and waffles for dinner?”

Newt nodded, his smile widening, even as his eyes began to droop, and he felt himself fall asleep properly for the first time in several days.

He woke up a few minutes later, Noah’s gentle shaking of his shoulder being the catalyst for it. Newt looked around blearily, relying on muscle memory to remove his seatbelt while Noah got the Coyote out of the back. He stared at the front of the police station, only waking up properly when he felt his leash returned to his hand. He followed Noah into the building, smirking slightly when he saw the deputy at the front desk do a double take at the Coyote.

It only took a few minutes for Noah to get him settled at his desk, the Sheriff returning to his office with a careful smile. Newt appreciated it, even though he could tell that one of the deputies had been assigned to keep watch over him, the man’s surreptitious looks in his direction being a dead give-away to his motives.

Rather than the studying he was meant to do, Newt elected to slide off of his chair and play with the Coyote instead. Now that he knew there was a human in there, he endeavoured to treat it as a more intelligent creature than he had before, meaning that peak-a-boo was completely out of the question. Instead, he ended up rubbing its belly after it had tired of trying to find which hand he was holding his gum eraser in. He knew that there was very little that he should be smiling about given the situation with Thomas, but when faced with an affectionate coyote with a ridiculous expression upon its face, there was very little that he could do to stop grinning.

That was how his assigned deputy found him, the man carrying a few files as he walked past the desk.

"I was worried that you’d escaped out the back,” the man began, standing a good 6 feet away from where Newt was sitting on the scratchy carpet. “I suppose this makes more sense.”

Newt raised an eyebrow, not quite glaring at the man, but making it clear that if he wanted to talk with such camaraderie, then he would at least have to introduce himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man took a step back, “My name is Jordan Parrish, I’m the newest deputy. Your, well, your um, future father-in-law? I guess? He wanted me to make sure you were okay. Not disembowelled by a wild animal that someone has inexplicably let into the building.”

This time Newt did snort. He returned to playing with the Coyote, scratching behind her ears and avoiding her attempts to lick his face.

The deputy nodded at the clear dismissal, returning to his desk while Newt played with the happy creature.

It seemed like only a few more minutes before Noah had reached the end of his shift, the sheriff exiting his office with a contented smile forming on his face as he reached Newt.

“Dinner time kiddo.” Noah jerked his head slightly, waiting patiently for Newt to pull on his jacket and reattach the coyote’s lead. It seemed so strange to him that, despite Newt’s newly found muteness, a keen sort of intelligence radiated from him, his movements as precise as the highly ranked officers Noah had encountered in his brief time in the army.

Finally Newt packed up his meagre belongings, using his right hand to hold the coyote’s lead while he slung his temporary backpack over his left shoulder. Noah’s smiled dimmed slightly as he met Newt’s eyes. They were dim, and virtually devoid of any light. He resolved to try to fix that.

“So, I feel like burgers,” he began, forcing a warm smile to his face, “With more fries than I could count.” Newt smiled, nodding his assent as they walked out of the station and got into the police cruiser, heading towards the diner Newt had visited the first time he’d come to Beacon Hills.

It was just as well that they chose that particular moment to leave, having just turned the corner when three shadowy figures appeared from thin air.

* * *

_Two Hours Earlier_

_Noshiko was a fierce warrior, well known in the supernatural world for her prowess in battle. But as any warrior could tell you, your skill as a warrior was only one factor of many that contributed to the success of a fight._

_She had been taken by surprise, not expecting for the Nogitsune to be so bold as to attack right after it had taken Lydia. Somehow, she had thought that the monster might try to stick to the ancient codes of combat that had been instilled in her when she had first been trained. A stupid idea perhaps, considering the depravity of the creature, certainly something she regretted in hindsight as she struggled against his constant attacks. Even with all of her own power, it had an edge in that it didn’t have to worry about the welfare of anyone else in the room._

_The Pack had come to back her up, because of course they had, their overwhelming goodness something that she was equal parts grateful for and exasperated with. It certainly would have been an easier fight if only she hadn’t been trying to shield Kira and Minho from the increasingly desperate attacks of the Nogitsune._

_Scott and Isaac attempted to help her, but the Nogitsune was adept in dealing with multiple attackers, using the inexperience of the two boys in fighting alongside Noshiko to confuse them, one of the fighters always blocking the other two. Even Derek was trying to help, though in truth he was even less effective than the two boys, on the edges of the increasingly one-sided fray._

_Eventually, after several seconds, the Nogitsune threw his hands up an invisible force holding back Noshiko and the members of the pack as they tried to rush him._

_“Really guys,” the nogitsune smirked, the normally beatific smile of Thomas twisted unnaturally, horrifyingly, a mockery of the kind boy whose body had been so rudely invaded, “I expected you to put up a more organised front. After all, you know how much I love Chaos.”_

_He threw his hands back, everyone thrown back slightly. Noshiko sighed, she knew that this might be exactly what the monster wanted, but she could see that she had no choice if she wanted everyone to walk away from the fight unharmed. She reached into the pocket of her coat, where she had put the seven tails that were left to her._

_She could tell that this pleased the Nogitsune, another twisted smile beginning to form as she brought the tail out and snapped it with both hands._

_“Back to your old tricks,” the Nogitsune laughed twistedly, the sound akin to a dying creature. “It’s not really the honourable thing to do, old friend.”_

_By the time he finished speaking, the Oni Noshiko had summoned had formed fully. It walked forward, moving with all the grace of a shadow puppet as Noshiko readied herself to fight in concert with it._

_Before she could even raise her sword, the fight had been lost. The Nogitsune lunged forward, reaching deep into the chest of the Oni with his right hand, and wrenching the sword from its hand with his left. Noshiko watched in astonishment as the protector she had called to defend the pack crumbled to dust only a few seconds after it had been summoned._

_“There we go,” the Nogitsune smiled, testing his range of movement with the stolen blade, laughing perversely as he swung it around, “That’s a little better Noshiko, don’t you think?” he shrugged when her only response to him was a tight frown, “Oh don’t be like that, what was I supposed to do? Let you gut me? Have you told them yet what you’re going to do to this body? To get rid of me, how far you’re prepared to go?” he looked behind her shoulder at Scott, “If you think that you can trust her, you’re wrong, she doesn’t care about your Stiles, or what happens to him. She just wants to restore order to the universe, even if it kills him.”_

_Noshiko frowned as she felt Scott, Isaac, Derek, and even her own children edge away from her, none of them willing to be complicit in her pragmatism. “I will do what needs to be done, to rid the world of the stain of your evil. No matter what it takes.”_

_The Nogitsune smirked, “And how will you explain that to poor Noah, he’s already lost so much, it’s not really fair to the poor man, is it?” it moved one hand, making a mocking face as the hand came to rest above his heart. “And think of dear Newt, do you really think he can take another loss without throwing himself from a cliff this time?”_

_Noshiko frowned at its line of reasoning, she knew that it was the way of the Nogitsune to sow chaos, she couldn’t follow the particular point it was trying to get to. Surely something so chaotic would have an ulterior motive, but this? It just seemed disorganised, with no end game in sight._

_Behind her, she felt Derek move forward, the tall werewolf facing off against the Nogitsune, eventually walking forward to place himself between her and the Nogitsune. “You’ve spent a lot of time talking, but you haven’t said what you want. We know that you have Lydia, now tell us what you want for us to get her back.”_

_The Nogitsune laughed again, smiling unnaturally wide as it walked forward, reaching forward to tap at Derek’s chest, “You’re good, I can see why Stiles had just a bit of a crush on you.” It laughed as Derek took a step back, clearly frustrated, “Oh come on, there’s no way you didn’t know that before now, with the way he fell over himself to help you. I mean, of course, it was just a juvenile thing, doesn’t hold a candle to what Thomas feels for Newt, but still, I can understand.” It raised its hand suddenly, shoving Derek back into the group. “And you are right, but I think that you can guess what I want. What our dear Thomas wants.”_

_This time Scott stepped forward, “This isn’t some sort of prisoner exchange, you can’t just walk up to us and try to trade Newt for Lydia.”_

_The Nogitsune shook its head, “you don’t really have a choice Scotty,” and then without a care for the many people who surrounded it, the Nogitsune lunged forward, past Derek and towards Noshiko. In what seemed like a but millisecond to the older kitsune, he’d reached one hand into the inside jacket of her coat, and had pulled out four of her remaining tails, smiling wickedly as he walked backwards, already beginning to disappear from view, the last thing visible to the pack his gleaming grin as he turned a corner and finally vanished._

_Noshiko knew that this was only the beginning of what would surely be one of the most difficult battles of her life._

* * *

Newt was enjoying his burger, digging into it with a relish that had been absent the first time he’d set foot into it, more confident now that he knew that Noah’s kindness wasn’t some sort of trick or horrific trial set for him by WCKD.

Noah smiled as he watched his charge, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills eating at a much more sedate pace himself. Even with everything that was going on, it brought him some small measure of joy that he had finally gained the strange youth’s trust. Or, at the very least, enough trust for Newt to sit with his back to an exit.

Noah would take what he could get. He cleared his throat, waiting for Newt to put his burger down before he began to speak. “So, I know that know is a really bad time, with Thomas and all, but I wanted to ask you something. It’s a yes or no question, so there’s no need to worry.”

Newt nodded, wiping his slightly ketchup-soaked hands on one of the many napkins on the table, he looked John straight in the eyes, waiting for the man to speak.

“I’ve seen a lot go on in this town, some of it good, and some of it bad. I know that Thomas is going to come back, that’s just the way that the world is here. But I also know that if I stay here much longer, it won’t be much time before I lose him or you again, and Newt, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want you two to suffer after everything that we’ve been through already.” Noah smiled, his eyes suspiciously wet as he ate one of his fries, only steeling himself when he made to continue. “I think that it’s time we left this place, for good, and find somewhere we can live happily and safely. So my question to you, is if you can live with that.”

Newt smiled properly for the first time in many days. He nodded, pulling some of his fries out of their bowl and arranging them in front of himself. Noah looked on in amusement as the russet haired youth began to form recognisable letters on the table between them.

CANADA

Noah supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised, he’d suspected that Thomas and Newt only looked at Beacon Hills as a temporary home. Still, it was just a little bit of a shock to realise that they’d planned everything out in quite so much detail. He looked up at Newt, who was now acting uncharacteristically timid, his gaze directed firmly at the table-top.

“It’s a good idea.”

Ever so slowly, Newt lifted his head, and looked Noah in the eyes with an expression of pure shock.

“It’s a good idea,” Noah repeated himself again, “I mean, it’s a bit cold, but it’s be a good way of making a fresh start.”

Newt smiled, grabbing his fries before they got cold, and eating them quickly. He smiled at John, finishing his burger quickly before looking at John with pure, unbridled hope. He cleared his throat, the action appearing a bit painful from Noah’s perspective. The sheriff looked on, not sure whether he should be alarmed or amused.

Newt cleared his throat again, this time with slightly less discomfort. “Another Burger maybe?”

Noah smiled, already raising his hand to call for the beleaguered waitress who was on duty that night.

It was to be the last completely happy moment for both of them for quite some time.


	18. ...but I'll be close behind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, not dead just very busy.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy
> 
> Happy Eid.

Noah woke with a start, wincing as his newfound consciousness brought an almost blinding pain with it. He blinked back the tears of pain and tried to survey the location in which he was being held. Tried being the operative word, the muscles in his neck coiled too tightly for him to see much beyond what his peripheral vision could already tell him. He looked down, only realising now that his wrists were being held in shackles, and that his ankles were likewise bound.

He realised that this was not a situation that he could soon remove himself from, closing his eyes again to hasten away the headache which came with even the faintest hint of light. He would have to wait for some time before he would be able to extradite himself from the situation. Noah began to sigh, trying to breathe deeply to discourage the panic which was quickly building up in his chest, he just needed to think of what was around him, what was going on, and then he could find a way out of it. Then he’d find Newt.

Oh God, where the fuck was Newt?

Noah’s eyes snapped open another time, all of his previous aches and pains forgotten as he desperately looked around for his russet haired charge to no avail. The panic overwhelmed him again, and this time all of the breathing exercises in the world would not have helped him in regaining his calm. He struggled against the shackles, even though he knew in his heart that there was no chance of his meagre strength ever compelling them to open.

He closed his eyes again, even as he felt tears of helplessness begin to fall from them. He felt them fall down his face as he tried to remember what had happened.

_They had been walking away from the diner, towards the car. It seemed that Newt was finally beginning to get back to normal, the youth laughing at an off-handed comment Noah had made about the various new deputies he’d been saddled with._

_And then the shadows had liquified, moving around them until three shadowy figures with eyes the colour of dying light-bugs had them at sword point. For a moment, Noah had thought that they must have eaten something off at the diner, that some mould on the potatoes which they made the fries with was causing him to hallucinate. It would have been so easy to believe, had Newt not jumped behind him, clearly familiar with the shadow-creatures, trembling in what could only be considered fear._

_“Newt,” he hadn’t quite succumbed to the mounting terror, his brain still trying to reach for a rational explanation, “Is this something that Scott put you up to?” Even as the words left his mouth he’d known that wasn’t a reasonable explanation. The young man was too kind, too considerate of others to ever pull such a cruel prank. “Just tell me what’s going on here, buddy.”_

_He’d looked to his side to see that Newt was shaking his head. When he’d followed the boy’s eyeline, he’d seen why._

_Thomas, his son, was walking towards them, but even from a distance he could tell that there was something off about him. His eyes had bags around them, and his posture was slumped in a way that was nothing like the energetic pose that Stiles had always struck, nor the quiet dignity that Thomas had radiated since his return. This looked like a poor imitation of his son, a ventriloquist’s dummy that was being controlled by some unseeable puppeteer._

_“Hey Newt,” it’s tone was sing-song, even as its eyes were threatening, “You know, if you thought your little friends could really keep you away from me,” it sucked its teeth, “You really should have thought better, my dear.”_

_Noah had turned his head to face Newt confused, “Newt, what’s going on? I though you said you hadn’t seen Thomas since that night in the woods.” He looked between the two a few times in shock._

_Newt said nothing, he just shook his head, looking more upset than he had been even when he had picked him up from Melissa’s house after_ That Night _, the boy had simply looked at the ground, and stared at his feet._

_Noah had stepped forward, holding out a hand to his son. “Thomas, I know that something strange is happening right now. But you can always come home, and I’ll find a way to figure this out so that we can go home as a family, with the minimal amount of pain.”_

_The thing had laughed. “Oh, that’s right, he doesn’t know about this freaky world, does he?”_

_Newt had stepped forward at this, shaking his head tearfully. “Please.”_

_“The time for begging is over Newty,” it had stepped forward, the smile gone, “It’s time for the nightmare to begin.”_

_Noah had felt something hit the top of his head, and everything had gone black._

* * *

In another room, Newt woke with a start. Given the way in which he had been stolen, he had been expecting to wake in a musty room with his hands shackled to a radiator. To say that waking up on a couch with a length of rope holding his wrists together was a surprise to him was an understatement at the very least.

He sat up, taking a good look at his surroundings. It wasn’t a large room, but the mirrors hanging down one side gave it a spacious feel, and the furniture had been arranged around the edges of the room so that there was a large space near the door.

All things considered, it was comfortable considering the last thing that he could remember.

He wasn’t given much time to contemplate his gilded cage; the door squeaking ominously as it opened, revealing the shell of Thomas accompanied by two mysterious shadow creatures.

“Hello Newt.”

The russet haired youth raised his head wearily, staring the monster straight in the eye. His throat was still killing him, and in retrospect the salty fries had not been a brilliant idea if he wanted to hasten the healing process on that one. Still, he knew that he owed it to himself not to let this offense against him go unanswered.

“No,” he squared his shoulders “you are not the man I love, not the person I want to spend the rest of my life with,” he shrugged, “You do not address me, you do not talk to me, you do not look at me. So unless you intend on abandoning that particular body, kindly fuck off.”

Even with the snarl on his face, the monster looked nonplussed. He walked forward, ignoring Newt’s protests as he sat next him.

“You know,” the monster slumped forward, resting his chin in his hand, a gesture which Newt was sure was planned to garner his sympathy, “When I, well, arrived, I didn’t realise how difficult it would be to try to hold onto a body where I’m always fighting against its soul.”

Newt scoffed, “it serves you right.” He flinched back a bit when the monster looked at him with pure rage in it’s eyes, though his fear was short lived, a vicious smile coming to his face.

_Good_

“And you know what’s really irritating me the most, _Newt_?” the monster licked his lips, “He’s not fighting for the sake of fighting, he would give up if he could. The reason he’s fighting, instead of letting me do what I’m meant to do, what I was _created_ to do? He doesn’t want to lose you. He’s fighting for you because he loves you.”

Newt smiled. He knew it, had known it since the last days in the city when they had decided that the end of the world was no time or place to be coy. Still, it was nice to hear it confirmed, especially by a source who would have every reason to deny that fact.

The monster scoffed. “Don’t get too sappy, after all, his pathetic devotion to you makes it easier for me to go forward.” He was suddenly crowding Newt against the edge of the couch, his breath hot against Newt’s ear, “Because, you see, he loves you more than he hates me. And I can work with that. You know what they say, if you can’t beat them join them.”

Newt shoved the monster away, using his unrestrained legs to shove him off the couch. Despite his furious expression, the monster only laughed, pushing his hair back with one hand as he crawled forward, pulling both of Newts hands towards him.

“No, see you don’t have to fight me, you don’t have to fight this. We can compromise! You can have your Thomas and I can have my chaos.”

“Fuck you!”

The monster rolled his eyes, yanking Newt off of the couch, throwing him to the ground. “Why does every pathetic human I encounter have to react to a perfectly reasonable suggestion with such stupid stubbornness?”

Newt felt rage unlike anything he’d ever felt burn through his veins. For so long after he’d been rescued he’d felt as though there was something blocking him from being proactive. Aside from the night that he had dubbed the ‘ _Mad Max: Fury Road_ epiphany’, they had stayed locked in him, as though there was a dam in his throat, stopping them from being expressed.

But as the goddamn monster spoke, he felt the dam shatter, and the torrent of emotion flow up to his mouth.

“Because, unlike you, I know that there is something bigger than me, and I know it’s worth saving.”

The monster scoffed.

“You’re just like the people I faced before, but at least they had the excuse of being mad bastards. You?” He rolled his eyes, shrugging, “You try to act as though you’re giving me a reasonable proposition even as you propose to let me watch the world burn. How could I ever think that any man, even Thomas is worth that?”

The torrent ended, leaving Newt feeling as though he’d woken after a long nightmare. He stood, smiling as he walked away from the monster, who was watching him gobsmacked from the floor. He stopped at the door, knowing that it would likely be locked, turning back to the monster.

“And the thing is,” he chuckled, “Thomas is the fucking best of us, he really is, and I know he’s strong enough to kick you off, and I know that he’s only holding back because he’s scared for me. And I know that he’s listening, and that he knows what I said was truth.”

“You’re wrong, he’s so fucking weak.” It’s smile was terse, strained, completely and utterly false.

Newt laughed, “And you’re a terrible liar too. So, your time in this body, in this plane, I know that it’s limited. So if it’s all the same to you, I’d like you to take me back to Noah now.” He pulled on the handle, not surprised that it was locked, “Unless you want me to be witness to your complete and utter humiliation.”

He watched in something approaching delight as a waver of emotions ran across the monster’s face, eventually settling into cold indifference as it stood, opening the door and shoving Newt into the hall.

“You’re going to regret this.” It was funny how for all of the growling, the monster was almost pitiful now. It seemed that the bravado really had been false.

Newt shook his head as he was dragged down the hallway, looking down only when they went down some stairs towards what appeared to be a basement. “I know that you might never understand this, probably never will understand this, but you don’t love people because of who they are. You love them because what they do, and I don’t think that I could love him if he chose being with me over getting rid of you.”

They stopped in front of the basement door. Newt blocked the monster from opening it, looking it in the whiskey coloured eyes which were oh so familiar and achingly alien at the same time.

“You talk about his love for me and his hatred of you as though they’re completely different things, but really, the hate is an extension of the love, as strange as that sounds.”

He didn’t even mind as he was thrown into the basement, sighing in relief when he saw that Noah was awake, and aware, looking around the basement with an expression of keen eyed determination. The older man visibly sagged in relief when he saw that Newt was alive. The russet haired teen walked forward, carefully lowering himself to the floor without the aid of his hands, smiling at Noah when he’d finally settled down.

“Newt, you don’t have to try to spare my feelings, are you okay? Did he do anything to you?”

“No,” Newt shook his head, leaning forward and inspecting Noah’s bonds, “He was trying to bargain with me, I think that Thomas is on the verge of beating him. So, as far as I’m concerned, we have two options, we can wait here for him to rescue us, which personally, I’m not a fan of, or we can try to escape.”

Noah smiled wearily, “Newt, I’ve been trying to come up with a way of getting out of these for hours now, I’m not entirely sure that it can be done.”

Newt shook his head again, fiddling with Noah bonds with a single-minded determination. “Look, in life, you can take the attitude that something is insurmountable, and if you do, you’ve basically admitted defeat.” He found a link that had a bit of rust on it, pulling it closer to his face so he could examine it properly. “Or, you can be smart, and you can keep trying to climb the fucking thing.”

He could imagine Noah’s sad smile as the man took a breath and faced him, “And when that happens, you’ll always win?”

“No, but it’s better than wallowing in your own pity.” Newt stood, looking around in the dim light to try to find a sharp rock. “Besides, it’s not like Scott and the others are just going to leave us alone down here. They’re going to find us, and they’re going to free us, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to look like some fairy-tale princess when they do.”

Fortunately, he found a rock. Unfortunately he found it by falling over it, which rather undercut the noble sentiment. He righted himself quickly, bringing himself up back to a standing position with the rock in his hand. “You were in the army, right? Did you spend much time giving up?”

“I mean, it was the Gulf War. I wouldn’t exactly describe it as being very similar to the situation we’re in now.”

Newt frowned, clearly confused by the reference. “There was a Gulf War?”

“Don’t feel bad, it’s one we’d all rather forget.” Noah laughed as Newt began to bring the rock down on the shackles, working with surprising dexterity considering that his hands were still bound with the rope. “I don’t suppose I’m going to get an explanation for everything that’s going on, while we’re waiting for our knights on white horses.”

Newt shrugged, “Well, the coyote can apparently change back into a human, Lydia can hear people’s last moments, oh and Scott, Derek and a whole bunch of the others can turn into werewolves at will.” He finally managed to break the link, smiling up at John with a manic smile, “Oh and Kira can apparently summon lightning at will. It’s all very complicated, and I’m not sure if I believe any of it, but hey, it’s amusing, at the very least.”

He began working on his own bonds, thankful that the monster had decided to give him rope instead of cuff-links. He kept his head down, doing his best to avoid Noah’s expression, not wanting the closest man he had to a father to think that he had gone completely mad. He supposed that after the _Mad Max: Fury Road_ Epiphany, the revelation of his not so fantastic mental health in the maze, and his many terrible days at school, he wouldn’t be surprised, couldn’t blame the man. Instead of the low, soothing tones of reason that he had expected, he had been shocked to hear a low chuckle coming from the man, which quickly escalated into full blown laughter, complete with snorts.

“You know,” Noah began, his voice warm with amusement, “That makes my life make so much more sense.”

Newt looked up, confused. “That wasn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting Noah.”

"Do you know how many times something ridiculous has happened in this town, I’m talking murders where a body has chunks taken out of it with acid, dead lacrosse players coming back to life, teenagers going missing in the woods? Do you know how many times I thought that I was going to be run out of my job because of cases that defied a rational explanation?”

Newt shook his head. “I suppose that would be true.” He laughed as he finally freed his hands of the rope, rubbing at the dents that it had left, sighing as the pressure alleviated some of the pain. He leant back rolling his neck, “So, what do we do now?”

Noah shrugged, working the bonds on his feet off, sighing as he tried to get them off around the ankles. “I reckon that we should try to leave, get outside, find our bearings. Much as I hate to underestimate Scott, I think it’d be a hell of a lot easier for him to find us if we aren’t trapped in a basement somewhere.

Just at that moment, the door was kicked down, and for once in his life, Newt was happy to see Derek Hale striding into the room. The older man walked until he was about a foot away from the two of them, his hands on his hips.

“Let’s get this bastard.”

Newt couldn’t help but agree.


	19. ...I'll follow you into the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a lot of time to write, and I ended up re-writing a lot of it so that it would feel right.

Scott had seen many things in his short life that had terrified him; Peter Hale in his alpha form, the Kanima, his mother after he had rear-ended another car and dented the car. While each had in some way chilled him to the very bone, there was none so fearsome as the sight of Newt, freshly freed from his rope bonds, standing with a rock held in his hand and a fierce glint in his eye. The russet-haired youth seemed positively radiant in comparison to the pale, wispy thing he’d been since after he was attacked by the Nogitsune at the Nemeton. Despite the bruises on his wrists, and the grime that was streaked on his face, he seemed healthy.

Scott pushed past Derek, who was staring in dumbfounded wonder, and moved down into the basement, running up to Newt, stopping just short of touching him.

“Are you okay?” Scott smiled gently, his eyes drifting to Newt’s wrists, “Are you hurt?”

Newt shook his head, walking to Noah and pulling him into a standing position. When the sheriff had finally stood up, Newt walked past Scott, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door, “So, Noah knows. I’m sorry if this wasn’t my thing to share, but considering that we got kidnapped by literal shadow monsters, it seemed to be the right time.”

Scott nodded, looking over to Noah with an appraising glint in his eye. The man didn’t seem to be in hysterics, so he decided to wait until later to try to do the appropriate damage control. “Right, we need to get you out of here, before it notices that we’ve broken in.”

“Far too late for that Scotty.”

Scott turned his head to see the horrific grin of the Nogitsune at the door, holding Derek in a choke hold around the neck. He dared a brief look to his side to see how Newt was reacting to the presence of the monster, surprised to see the pure fury hiding behind his eyes.

The Nogitsune turned its attention to Newt, the look in his eyes making Scott shiver even though it wasn’t focussed upon him. “You know, I’m actually sad, I was looking forward to having you by my side, Samuel.”

“That’s not my name.” Newt’s voice was cold in its fury, so unlike how Scott himself would have reacted to being tormented by something inhabiting the love of his life’s body. “And the next time I hear you call me that, Thomas’ body or no, I will actually rip your tongue out.”

The Nogitsune sighed, tightening its grip on Derek. “You’re really the worst, you know. It seems like we’re at a standoff, you know, because you’re all too morally upright to attack your friend, and… actually, there’s no problem with me.” It pushed Derek forward, spinning its arms and pushing all four of them to the ground. “I mean you were pretty, Newt, but I’m so sick of all the sanctimonious whining, and the foolhardy optimism. I mean, do you ever get sick of yourself?”

Scott smiled from the floor, pushing himself up on his palms, sighing as he felt the muscles of his stomach twinge. “We might be optimistic, but as it turns out, we’re not stupid. Look behind you?”

The Nogitsune turned, slackening slightly when it and Scott saw Noshiko, Kira and Minho move through the door.

Noshiko smiled, taking her katana from where it rested upon her back, swinging it back a forth as she warmed up as she approached the Nogitsune. “Hello, old friend.”

Scott stood, walking past Newt and towards the Nogitsune. “You know, I’m a good Catholic, I don’t believe that anyone is completely past redemption. Not even monsters, not even you,” he sighed, wiping his hand over his face, “But, you’re toeing the line, you’ve hurt so many people that I love, my friends. So, I’m going to give you one more chance to tell us where Lydia is, get out of that body, and go on your way. Or I’m going to let Noshiko here kill you.”

The Nogitsune smirked, “You wouldn’t try to kill me. You couldn’t kill your friend.”

“Wherever you’re keeping him, I can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant place, I’m pretty sure Thomas would prefer the rest to being stuck with you for eternity.”

Scott sighed and looked down, closing his eyes as he allowed his claws to extend, wincing as he felt his fangs protrude through his gums. He had a feeling that it was going to be a shit-show.

He was proved right.

The Nogitsune dropped its affable air, the once terrifying smirk falling away into an even more chilling blank expression. The three shadow creatures which had once been at Noshiko’s beck and call materialised out of the dark corners and moved to flank it.

Scott looked out of the corner of his eye, nodding almost imperceptibly to Derek as his pack-mate inched away, trying to move just behind the shadow creatures. Scott moved his head slightly again, nodding to Kira and Minho, who had already slipped into their defensive positions behind their mother, who had drawn her sword and had steeled herself.

For a second everything was still.

And then chaos erupted.

The Nogitsune, predictable as it always would be despite its own chaos, practically threw itself towards Newt, the russet haired youth lunging towards the monster with great abandon.

Scott himself ran towards one of the shadow monsters, limited in his attack by the deadly sharp blade that it wielded with expert precision. For every step he took forward, he was forced back another two as he narrowly avoided being skewered. And even when he did manage to hit the monster, virtually nothing happened. There was no blood leaking from its wounds, there wasn’t even the hint of shadows being spilt from its wounds.

When he looked to Derek, he saw that his beta was having similar luck, perhaps even worse. He could see that at some point in the fight, Derek had taken a hit, blood was seeping from a cut upon his torso. A quick glance at Minho and Kira was more promising and bizarrely terrifying; Newt’s best friend was adeptly diving under the strikes of the monster, his punches forcing the shadows back even if they wouldn’t leave any bruised.

Kira was a terrifying sight, her visage something that would haunt Scott for the rest of his life.

She was floating slightly off the ground, a strong smell of ozone emanating from her point in space as lightning crackled around her. She was directing all of her energy towards the creature that her brother was attacking, not even stopping when Minho would land a punch. Apparently, their ethereal nature prevented them from being conductive, even as Kira pumped it full of the deadly electricity.

The creature was writhing in pain regardless, the lack of flesh and blood no protection from the supernatural lighting.

Scott turned away from his own assailant briefly, kicking it backwards with his supernatural strength to take a moment to look over to the Sheriff and Newt. The breath left his body for a moment as he saw Newt grappling with the Nogitsune as he screamed Thomas’ name, his love for Thomas not enough of a deterrent to stop Newt from clawing at his face, and torso, deep gouges appearing in the skin of his shoulders as Newt did his best to distract the monster from directing his minions.

The alpha was forced to turn back to his own opponent, the air swishing a few inches away from his ear the only warning he received before the Oni began its relentless assault upon him.

It felt as though he was going to be stuck in the fight for the rest of his life, no ground was won, no ground was lost, the fight becoming more of a dance as he became more aware of his opponents favoured moves, and the Oni became aware of his. For several minutes, they fought for the sake of fighting, absolutely no progress being made on either side.

And then with an unholy screech, Newt was propelled across the room, airborne for a good few seconds as he flew through the melee. Even the Oni appeared to be shocked, their swords falling to their sides as they turned to where the Nogitsune was writhing on the floor, their heads tilted in the universally recognised posture adopted by the supremely confused.

Scott started to walk towards the corner where the Nogitsune lay prone. He stopped when he reached the Sheriff’s side, his mouth opening without his conscious will as he watched a hand emerge from the Nogitsune’s mouth.

An arm followed it, slimy with some unknown internal fluid as it emerged to the elbow. It paused, another hand following it, also emerging to the elbow before the unknown body began to push itself out of the Nogitsune’s gaping maw, a dark head moving out of the mouth, the body following it quickly once the shoulders were out.

Scott gasped in shock again, taking an involuntary step forward as he saw two Stiles laying on the basement floor, distinguished only by the one on the left being soaked. He felt Derek come up beside him, his beta having helped Newt to his feet and led him back to the corner.

Scott blinked once, a horrible thought coming to his mind as he looked over the doppelgangers, one so upsetting to him that he could find no way of voicing it.

Derek being a much less sensitive soul had no qualms about doing that exact thing.

“Which one is the real Stiles?”

Even Newt, who had quickly recovered from his temporary flight, appeared to be completely shocked, his eyes flitting between the two identical men, eventually turning to Scott with a frown on his face. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Scott shrugged, immediately wanting to slap himself for how casual the gesture seemed to be. He turned to the Sheriff, but it was very clear that the man had no idea which one was his son.

Scott turned back to the two versions of his once dear friend. Stiles, the Nogitsune, Thomas, whatever it was, was beginning to stir. Both sat up in sync, staring at Scott with the exact same intensity, as though a mirror had been placed between the two.

And then the damp, sodden version of Thomas began to speak.

“Newt?”

Everything happened at once. Newt rushed forward, grasping at what had to be Thomas as though he might vanish if he didn’t. They looked so close as to be difficult to distinguish from one another. Scott scarcely had the chance to examine the two of them, the drier version of Stiles, the one he knew now to be the Nogitsune lunging towards the door, held back by Noshiko and her very sharp katana before he could escape.

The most worrying thing to Scott, as he began the walk towards the monster who had haunted his friends and family for far too long.

Its expression was nonplussed.

“I did give you your friend back.”

Scott sighed, flicking his claws out after they’d relaxed back into his fingertips after he’d been distracted by all the supernatural bullshit. He let his face morph into his more horrifying visage, the world shifting as his eyes shifted (or maybe returned, it was getting so hard to tell after all this time) to their red state. He stepped forward once again, frowning at the smirk on the monster’s face.

“That was more of a one time offer,” Scott holding his hand just above the Nogitsune’s face, “Sorry.”

“Think of what you could do if you just let me help you Scott. You nearly die on what seems to be an hourly basis trying to fight back the forces of evil. Imagine how easy it would be if only you allowed me to guide you.” The Nogitsune leaned forward into Scott’s claws, “You think that leading a pack, being a true alpha is something impressive? I could make you a King, an Emperor.”

Scott shook his head, taking a step backward to get away from the monster. “I don’t want that.”

The Nogitsune laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t need to lie to me, Scotty, I’m a thousand years old. I know what you want, and it definitely isn’t to be at home, with your mom. I could give you anything you wanted. Riches, Fame… Allison.”

Scott startled as the basement door opened, revealing an out of breath Allison with her bow drawn, and a slightly exhausted looking, but no worse for wear. The brunette warrior took only a second to aim at the Nogitsune, Scott impressed as he saw her arm hold steady even as she held the taught string to her cheek, the bow creaking with the strain that it was under.

Scott turned back to face the Nogitsune, a smile on his face as he saw its own smirk begin to falter.

“I don’t want any of that,” he took another step away, surveying the state of the basement as he stepped towards Allison and Lydia. “It’s time for you go.”

The Nogitsune laughed, shaking its head as though the idea of being banished was immensely amusing to it. “I’m a thousand years old, you can’t kill me.”

Lydia stepped forward, her eyes blazing as she approached the monster who had tormented her. “No, we can’t, in fact no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel your death bubbling out of my throat at any point.” She shrugged, but the fearsome expression she wore belied her fury. “But we can change you.”

Scott felt his eyes light up as he processed her words. He lunged forwards, moving quicker than even the Nogitsune could hope to evade. He took hold of its dry wrist, clamping his jaws down around its wrist, holding on for as long as he possibly could before the Nogitsune wrenched its arm away.

The Nogitsune stood still for a few moments, the ancient evil gazing at its arm with something approaching shock as a grey rash began to spread, the tips of its fingers starting to crumble away like Lot’s wife in the wind. It had only a few seconds to look up at Scott, frowning as its legs fell away, and it collapsed to the ground with a very soft thud.

Scott turned to his pack, his eyes going over the terrified Lydia, to Allison who was only now relaxing, and then to Derek, who stood looking at the basement with his usual expression of resigned surprise when he discovered that he had once again survived a very close encounter with death. Scott turned his gaze to Kira’s family; Noshiko had put her Katana away and was now holding her children close.

Finally Scott turned his gaze to look at the Stilinski family. Newt had, at some point in all the chaos, released Thomas, stepping aside so that the Sheriff could collapse down next to his son and sob onto the teenager’s shoulder. Scott could not make out the Sheriff’s many tear-filled utterances, but from the weak smile on Thomas’ face, he couldn’t imagine that he had said anything particularly upsetting.

No, for what seemed to be the first time since Newt had fallen from the rock-climbing wall in the school gym, it seemed as though there was nothing in their future but happiness and peace. It was surely not what the future held for Beacon Hills; the large supernatural population and the ley lines that met there surely the most effective preventative for that, but for now Scott would like to pretend that he could ignore that near certain imminent doom.

Instead he smiled as he watched Thomas stand, the part of the boy-warrior which had been forced into a maturity far past his age seeming to have him on autopilot as he nodded at Scott, his face betraying how tired he must be on a bone deep level as he herded Newt and the Sheriff towards the door.

Scott smiled, motioning for his friends to follow him towards the door. He was about 90% sure that after such an ordeal as this, they all deserved to collapse on his wide variety of couches and beanbags as they devoured the best pizza that his just above minimum wage job could get them.

It seemed that Thomas was of a similar view. He nudged the Sheriff as they moved towards the carpark, holding up his hand for everyone to pause as he turned to address them.

“You know, this all started at the diner. I think we should end this nightmare there.”

He looked at Scott, his whiskey-brown eyes simultaneously familiar and alien to the young werewolf leader. It seemed that even after the mystery of Stiles disappearing, and the even greater riddle of Thomas returning in his body, there was still some sort of bond between the two of them, even if it only went as far as food.

“You know, that sounds like a great idea.” Scott walked forward, pulling Thomas into a tight hug as he felt all of the tension in his body disappear. “It’s good to have you back buddy. It’s really good to have you back.”

Scott smiled as he turned to his pack, nodding for them to get into Derek and Allison’s cars. He nodded at Thomas before he walked over to his bike, where Isaac was sitting with his hand on a walkie talkie.

Scott smiled at his friend, “You were useless out there.”

“You told me to give Parrish a call if any of the Oni or the Nogitsune escaped. I think that I did a good job, the best job, even.” Isaac smiled, showing all of his teeth as Scott threw him a helmet and threw one leg over his bike, laughing as Scott began the engine, and followed the three cars out of the otherwise abandoned lot.

Tonight was going to be great.

The following hours were perhaps some of the most relaxed in his life, Scott and all of his friends lazily laughing at terrible puns and extremely badly told recollections of past scrapes.

It was good, as all of their nights should have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last chapter in the main plot. There's going to be a nice fluffy epilogue soon.


	20. Epilogue

Canada was colder than Newt could have ever imagined.

Some memories were beginning to push through the mental block after two years of being free of the entire insane experiment run by Ava Paige, the misty rain in the summer bringing back of memories of running around in a muddy paddock and a warm home waiting for him afterwards.

He would tell Thomas about the memories every time he felt a new one resurface, the brunet would always listen with rapt attention, and kiss him on the forehead when he’d finished describing every single detail that came to him. Thomas’ memories came less frequently, and were muddier, but at the very least he was able to call Noah up and confirm their veracity.

As far as Newt was concerned, the only warm place in the entire country was their little farm house, an old structure that had been on Prince Edward Island as long as farmers had been.

It was warm, the kitchen still had a fireplace with a hook to hand a pot over and there was an honest to god icebox next to the fridge. They both loved it, Newt often found himself sitting at the kitchen table during the winter; reading a book while Thomas would sip a cup of tea.

They were very happy there.

They had a routine.

In the morning Thomas would wake with the sun, kiss Newt’s forehead and go out into the field. What he did there depended upon the season, but there was always a good chance that he’d be on top of a tractor, where he’d remain for several hours until he went inside for lunch.

Newt was fond of sleeping in. Thomas’ side of the bed had normally gone cold by the time that Newt through off his covers and began his day. He’d normally start with coffee, his brain being slightly too sleepy to function before he was allowed a dose of caffeine. After that he’d normally go into the nearby town, and begin his shift at the local library. It wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating, but he appreciated being among the many books, and discovering the worlds that had been denied to him while he had been stuck in the maze.

He’d come home a bit after five to find muddy boots sitting on the front porch, and Thomas sitting on the bottom three stairs that lay just inside of the front door. They’d sit on the stairs for a while, saying very little to each other, just revelling in the sensation of being allowed to sit together without any fear of being interrupted.

By the time that the sun was hanging low in the sky, they’d be in the kitchen, and readying dinner. Newt always ended up dealing with whatever form of meat they’d have, while Thomas chopped the vegetables, more of them ending them up in his mouth than the pot, casserole dish, or fry-pan that they were cooking in.

They normally went to bed early, Thomas falling asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow, while Newt would stay awake for a little bit and read whichever of the books he’d been able to bring home that night.

To an outside observer, it was a horribly boring life, but they loved it.

There was no pain, no worries, no evil creatures which tried to murder them. To any of their compatriots it would have surely been something resembling paradise.

One particular evening, during the depths of Winter, Newt and Thomas were sitting at their kitchen table. Newt was reading _Anne of Green Gables_ aloud, while Thomas sipped at his tea. It might not have been a particularly inspired choice for their evening reading, but neither of the men were complaining. Newt had just gotten up to the point where Anne broke her slate over Gilbert’s head when the phone hanging on the wall began to ring.

Thomas didn’t seem to be particularly irritated by the interruption to their evening routine, smiling slightly at Newt as he stood and took the phone out of its cradle.

“Hi Dad,” the brunet laughed into the receiver as Noah’s crackly voice came through the line, “Dad, you’re the only person who calls us on the landline. The cell-phone has well and truly taken over the market.”

Newt couldn’t make out anything but amused crackling coming from the receiver. He put the book down, kissing Thomas on the cheek before he left the room and began to walk up the stairs.

His nightmares were less frequent these days, but he still sometimes had the rough night’s sleep. The last night had been one of those nights, the cold of the northern nights managing to get through even the thickest of the blankets on their bed, and leaving Newt keen to be warmer on this night.

It only took a half-an-hour for Thomas to make his way upstairs.

“You know, right now you look like a burrito.”

Newt laughed, “Right now you look cold. Come on you big lump.”

Thomas began taking the first of many layers off. “You know, I was thinking I might hire a few more workers next harvest season?”

Newt rolled onto his side and observed Thomas out of the corner of his eye, pulling the blankets even closer to himself. “Why?”

“I’m thinking of buying a few more acres?”

Newt actually sat up after hearing this, frowning. “Why? How many?”

“One of the neighbours is packing up, the land is good, I thought that it might be a fun thing to do. And by fun, I mean profitable. It’s only about ten-thousand, I’ve done the maths, it won’t break the bank.”

“Did you ever think that we’d get here?”

Thomas looked at him with a confused expression. He pulled off his t-shirt climbing under the covers next to Newt. “To Prince Edward Island specifically?”

“Before we were here, before Beacon Hills, I thought that I was going to die in the middle of no-where, a lab-rat of some madmen who didn’t give a fuck about us. And now we’re here. I never could have imagined this happening.” He rolled over slightly, resting his head on Thomas’s chest and smiling.

“No, back then, I was mostly focussed on surviving and not calling you the prettiest thing that I’d ever seen.”

“The prettiest thing you’d ever seen?” Newt’s mouth pulled back into an even wider smile than it had been before, “God, if you’d told me that when you first saw me, I don’t think that we’d have ever gotten out of the maze.”

Thomas laughed, rolling away from Newt slightly to turn the light off.

It was hard to tell who fell asleep first, but only a few minutes later they were both deep asleep.

* * *

(Two years earlier)

They’d tried to make Thomas leave Newt’s room three times before everyone had finally given up and let him work a chair in between the many machines that were monitoring the heart-rate, blood pressure, respiration and blood sugar of the injured youth.

Thomas could barely comprehend the environment they had been placed in. There was no sand, no harsh fluorescent lights, no men with guns. It was clean, and despite their frustrations, the nurses and doctors were kind, and made no moves to harm either of them.

They said that it was lucky that Newt hadn’t been killed by the knife in his chest, especially after the toxin that he’d been exposed to. Honestly, even if Thomas hadn’t had his own fingers pressed against Newt’s pulse, he might not have believed that he was alive.

It took another three days before Newt began to stir. Thomas was the first to notice, feeling Newt’s hand twitching under his shortly before the russet haired boy began to open his eyes, looking around confusedly before his eyes settled upon Thomas.

“Tommy?”

Thomas felt his gaze drawn to Newts eyes, finding himself lost in the dark brown shade that he’d worried he might never see again. He smiled, leaning forward slightly as Newt shuffled in the bed to be closer to him.

“Hey Newt,” Thomas leaned forward, resting his forehead against Newt’s, “You had us worried there for a while buddy.”

Newt grumbled resting his head back on the pillow with a sigh. “You found a cure then?”

Thomas sighed, looking down at his hands as he tried to figure out how to tell Newt about the truth of the situation they had been found in. That Ava Paige had not been the last hope for humanity, but had been a madwoman with a budget. That there had never been a flare, or a massive loss of human life, or even a desert. That all of their suffering had been for nothing.

“No. But it’s okay, we don’t need one.”

Newt tried to sit up, Thomas’ hand on his chest preventing him from getting more than a few inches up off of the bed. He looked at Thomas with an expression of pure unbridled fear on his face, holding one weak arm to try to push Thomas away.

“Tommy, you can’t be here, I don’t know what’s going on here, why I’m not completely fucked up right now, but you need to go, before I hurt you.”

Thomas shook his head, leaning back slightly to appease Newt’s panic, “There’s no flare, there’s no flare, you’re fine.”

Newt frowned, falling back onto his pillow with confusion clear in his eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Thomas leaned in, taking Newt’s hands again, smiling at him with tears in his eyes.

“There’s no flare. You aren’t sick. I mean aside from the knife that was briefly in your chest. But lets not talk about that right now.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” Newt’s face scrunched up, and tears began to fall down his face, “So, we weren’t the last hope for humanity, not even close?”

“No.”

“So all of this, all of the pain, all of the death, all of the chaos? It was for nothing?”

For a second, Thomas had nothing to say to that. The silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the air right before monsoon season.

And then, just like the first downpour of rain, everything cleared.

“We got each other didn’t we?”

“You’ll stay then?”

Thomas smiled, leaning his forehead against Newt’s once again.

“For as long as I draw breath, you and me are gonna be together.”

“I like that idea.”

“Me too.”

Thomas and Newt smiled simultaneously.

Whatever trials and tribulations would come, they’d be together. And that might nor have seemed like much, but to them in was everything.

_Fin._


End file.
